


The Long Way Home

by Lady_Brisarys



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Apparently this is a sloooooow burn, Braime - Freeform, Drama with a capital D, F/M, Finding your way back, I have no clue where this is going, I let my readers give me a prompt, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Assault, and a challenge it was, this was supposed to be a oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 102,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Brisarys/pseuds/Lady_Brisarys
Summary: Late one spring evening, two sort-of strangers decide to take the long way home from the same party. Living seemingly opposite lives on opposite sides of society and the city they work in, they never expected their paths to cross, but oh, how they did. Now they’re forced to embark on a journey down a very windy road, trying to find their way home - wherever that may be.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 246
Kudos: 353





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Want to participate? You can follow me on https://www.instagram.com/lady_brisarys/

The night was dark and full of terrors. _Yes_. Terrible fucking terrors. Like having a car from 1988 that breaks down at the most inconvenient times.  
  
And parties. God, how she hated parties.  
  
And people.  
  
And everything, really.  
  
“Well fuck that,” Brienne exclaimed as she kicked against one of the tires, inflicting more pain on her own foot than on the car. She had taken an unknown turn somewhere and now regretted it deeply, wholly and completely. Even more than that one time she was on her period and she went to the store, staring at rows full of chocolate before deciding she shouldn’t eat any because she was a terrible liar and her coach would make her pay for it in the morning.  
  
Yes, this was even worse than that. So there she stood, cold, tired and annoyed, bent over her car, staring at what she assumed was the engine. Or maybe it wasn't.  
  
“Isn’t this just wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” After fumbling through her bag to find her phone, she closed the bonnet and sat down on top of it, crossing her long legs at the ankles. No reception. Of course not.  
  
 _Could this evening get any worse?_ The cold winter wind blew and she shivered. _  
  
I knew I shouldn’t have gone_. Half an hour passed as she sat waiting for someone to show up, but by then she could barely feel her fingers and her toes from the cold, so she decided to lie down on the back-seat, with her legs sticking out the door.  
  
Surely she would hear a car coming from miles away. Unless she fell asleep.  
  
It couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes that she had dozed off, but the driver didn’t see her frantically waving in his rear view mirror when she stumbled out of the car and ran after him. She checked her phone again. Still no service.  
  
Maybe she should just start walking to the nearest gas station? But it was cold and dark and she had no clue where to go. Her father would be so mad at her for always taking the long way home.  
  
  
  
Brienne never heard how an SUV pulled over across the road, and footsteps were approaching. Perhaps she shouldn’t have turned the volume up when she rested her phone on her chest, enjoying some music to pass the time.  
  
She was just about to sing along when someone said, “Are you alright sir?” It scared the flying shits out of her, so she tried to jump up, but misplaced her hand, causing her to slip into this really awkward position between the front and back seat. Once again, absolutely wonderful.  
  
“Oh god, I’m so sorry, _madam_ ,” the voice said, reaching out a hand to pull her up. “Are you okay?”  
  
Brienne blinked against the flash light on his phone.  
  
“I would be if I could _see_ ,” she said, annoyed. The man turned the light off with a chuckle and finally she could see his face.  
  
No fucking way. Not _him_.  
  
Just when she thought things really couldn’t get any worse, who pops up out of nowhere to rescue her? The knight in shining armour, mister Jaime fucking Lannister. What a joke.  
  
“Move aside, I don’t need your help,” she said as she pushed him away and got out of the car, before realising she didn’t really know what to do. She took her bag from the front seat and started aimlessly going through her stuff.  
  
“Are you sure about that?”  
  
He barely finished his sentence when she snapped, “Yes. Just- I’ll be fine.”  
  
“Do you want me call someone for you?”  
  
Brienne had her back turned to him. “No.”  
  
“But then what are you going to do?”  
  
“I’ll wait.”  
  
“Wait for whom?”  
  
Could she say, “Anyone but you?” No, that would be rude. And being rude was _his_ thing, not hers.  
  
“I don’t know. _Help_.” He frowned and Brienne could almost hear the penny drop.  
  
“Wait a second... I _know_ you.” Brienne rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of frustration.  
  
“Not really,” she replied as she threw her bag back into the car, wishing there was anything to do except have a conversation with this spotted and inconstant man.  
  
“What do you mean? Don’t you work at Winterfell inc?” He looked her up and down, his eyes slowly taking in every inch of her tall personage. “Because I’m sure I’ve seen you before. You’re ehm… Well, you’re not easy to forget.”  
  
She whirled around to face him.  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaime shrugged and held his hands up, playing innocent.  
  
“Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just that I remember you.”  
  
“Yeah, well… I remember you too.” She walked around the car, opening and closing the doors, fumbling around but never actually doing something.  
  
“Are you alright there? Looking for something?”  
  
 _Y_ _es, I’m looking for a gun to blow your brains out_. He was absolutely insufferable. She hated him, despised him, loathed him with a passion.  
  
Jaime Lannister had started working for Winterfell Inc probably 2 months after Brienne. One of their many differences was that he walked around like he owned the place whereas Brienne had found only one co-worker worth exchanging more than 3 words with. He was always flirting, always cracking jokes – often at someone else’s expense -, always arrogant and insolent and rude.  
  
And So. Fucking. _Handsome_.  
  
  
  
“Turns out I won’t be able to call anyone after all,” he said as if she had asked him something, holding up his phone to her and adding, “No service.”  
  
 _Ugh_. Brienne was so tired. She just wanted to get home and be left alone.  
  
“Want me to check your car? Maybe I can fix it.”  
  
Brienne looked at him with suspicion, thinking of a million things to say, but all that came out of her mouth was, “Sure.”  
  
He smiled at her. Thankfully it was too dark for him to see her blushing.  
  
“Could you give me a light?” She took her phone out of her pocket and turned the flash light on. He looked up over his shoulder.  
  
“A bit closer, please?” Brienne rolled her eyes and did what he asked, albeit quite reluctantly. “Bit to the left. Bit more. That’s it. Hold it there if you can.”  
  
“Of course I can,” she snapped, and Jaime scoffed. Brienne had no clue what he was doing and part of her wondered if _he_ even knew what he was doing. He stayed quiet for a little while.  
  
“Well, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what’s wrong with it,” Jaime said as he straightened his back, his hands all black with oil and grease. Both of them looked down.  
  
“Oh, sorry about that,” Brienne said. “Wait, I have something to wipe your hands with.” She took a white tank top from her bag and handed it to him.  
  
“Is this yours?” he asked.  
  
 _What a stupid question_.  
  
“No it’s my grandma’s, _duh_ , of course it’s mine.” He raised his eyebrows at her and mumbled thanks when he took the shirt.  
  
“Are you always like this with men? Or is it just me?” _Just you_.  
  
“No. Yes.”  
  
“What have I ever done to you? Did I ever leave you in the middle of the night without saying goodbye?”  
  
Brienne’s cheeks flushed as the words poured out of his mouth. “What? No!”  
  
He laughed. “Of course not. I would have remembered that. Like I said: you’re not easy to forget.”  
  
Jaime handed the shirt back to her as she simultaneously handed him the bag, causing a ridiculous misunderstanding of sorts that ended with her bag going upside down and all the contents spilling on the asphalt.  
  
“Great,” she mumbled, more to herself than to Jaime. Nothing is more lovely than having the most attractive man in the entire office helping you get your toffee wrappers and tampons off the ground. Thankfully – and surprisingly – he didn’t do anything to make the situation any more awkward.  
  
“Listen, I was joking. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in any way. I don’t remember what I did and I’m assuming you’re not going to tell me.”  
  
“Damn right I’m not.” Jaime chuckled and even in the dark there was something in his eyes that gave her a stomach ache.  
  
“Let me give you a ride home.”  
  
 _And have you know where I live? No thank you_.  
  
“That’s alright,” Brienne said, closing the bag and putting it away safely, turning away from him.  
  
“Brienne...” She almost tripped as her name swirled off his tongue. “That’s your name isn’t it? _Brienne_?”  
  
She cleared her throat. “It is.”  
  
“Right. So, let’s start over.” He reached out his hand to her, while saying “Hi, I’m Jaime.” Brienne stared at him, hesitantly.  
  
“I know,” she said. Jaime growled and took her hand to shake it.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Brienne.” She answered with a huff.  
 _  
Stop saying my name like that, you idiot_.  
  
“Go on, get your things. I’m taking you home.” She took a breath in to utter some kind of protest but he cut her off saying, “Unless you’d rather have me hanging out here with you all night?”  
  
“Fine. Thank you.” It was all she could say.  
  
  
  
Brienne stuffed herself in the front seat of his car, trying to find the lever to put the seat back 400 feet.  
  
“It’s on the right,” Jaime said without looking up. The seat jolted back before it clicked in position. Jaime tried to hide his chuckle with a fake cough.  
  
“You can type in your address right there.” He pointed at the screen on the dashboard before turning to his phone and typing a message that wouldn’t be going anywhere until they had reached the land of the living again. Then he shivered and turned the heater on.  
  
“Ugh, I hate the fucking North,” he said, trying to start a conversation. Brienne shrugged and adjusted her seatbelt.  
  
“It grows on you.”  
  
“I don’t want things growing on me.”  
  
There was something strange in the way he said it and because of it, she didn’t know how to respond.  
  
He chuckled and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman of so few words.”  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a man of so many,” Brienne fired back. She didn’t mean it as a joke, but he laughed anyway.  
  
The silence between them was disturbed by a stomach rumbling.  
  
“Ugh, I’m famished. Do you mind stopping somewhere to grab something to eat?”  
  
 _Um, yes?_  
  
“Sure.” Silence again.  
  
It didn’t take long for him to try again. “So... Did you enjoy the party as much as I did?”  
  
Brienne remembered seeing him in the beginning, causing a roar of joy and life when he entered the room. It was her cue to roll her eyes and go somewhere else.  
  
“Depends. Did you hate it? Then yes.”  
  
Jaime huffed. “Yeah, I did.” Brienne gave him a surprised look and he glanced over at her. “What? Didn’t expect that?”  
  
“Can’t say that I did, no.” His eyes sparked.  
  
“Turns out you might not know me as well as you think you do, _Long Legs_.”  
  
She gave him a sideways glance. “My name is Brienne. And I never said I knew you.”  
  
“You think you know me enough to judge me,” Jaime said in a calm voice.  
  
Brienne shifted in her seat awkwardly but didn’t reply. She wasn’t like him. She needed time to say the right thing and even then, it often came out wrong.  
  
Jaime ignored her internal dialogue. “I believe it’s called networking.”  
  
Brienne sighed quietly. “It comes very natural to you. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Jaime shrugged and then combed his fingers through his golden hair.  
  
 _How very annoying_.  
  
“Well, just because I’m good at it, doesn’t mean I enjoy it. It’s a family thing, I suppose.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
  
  
“So, you’re not from around here.” Brienne turned her head to stare out the window, where tall trees drifted past like an ocean of black and dark green.  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
“Okay… Where are you from then?”  
  
“I grew up on an island. You wouldn’t know it.”  
  
“Try me.”  
  
“It’s called Tarth. The sapphire isle.” Silence.  
  
“Nope. Never heard of it.”  
  
“As I said.” He looked almost disappointed and Brienne felt a hint of guilt as he leaned his elbow against the door and rested his head in his hand. Gods, even his hands were beautiful. She cleared her throat awkwardly.  
  
“Where do you live now?” Jaime looked up in surprise.  
  
“Got myself a cosy little cabin near the Kingswood.” Brienne frowned. She wasn’t that familiar around here yet, but the Kingswood was miles into a different direction.  
  
“Kingswood? But then where were you going?” He smiled into the distance although she knew it was meant for her.  
  
“Home.” He paused and then added in a dreamy voice, “I like to take the long way home.” They exchanged looks only for a second, but it was enough to turn Brienne’s ears red and more than enough for her to curse herself.  
  
Jaime pulled up at a drive-in and ordered all kinds of disgusting food while Brienne got a diet coke.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? You don’t know what you’re missing.” She simply shook her head. Brienne chewed on her straw as she watched Jaime eat. As he took another bite, grease dripped own his chin and he chuckled.  
  
“Gods these are good, sure you don’t want anything?”  
  
“I really shouldn’t,” she said. He frowned, looked down at his burger and took another bite.  
  
“Do you ever do something just for fun?”  
  
“Of course I do.” He gave her another strange look, a look that made her feel uncomfortable. His assumptions were almost loud enough to hear them.  
  
“It’s just because I have a match coming up on Sunday. I need to keep my diet clean.”  
  
Jaime frowned. “What kind of match?”  
  
“Kick-boxing.”  
  
He raised his eyebrows and sounded more impressed than surprised when he said, “No shit. That explains how you came to be so toned.”  
  
She blushed again and he continued, “I didn’t know you enjoyed kick-boxing.”  
  
“I do.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, I got that,” he said with a smile. “You should teach me one time.” Luckily he didn’t wait for her to reply, but continued to talk about how he used to play baseball until he fractured his wrist. She listened to him, staring ahead, but she could feel how he was looking at her.  
  
She turned her gaze toward him just in time to see him staring at the way her lips curled around the straw.  
  
Jaime cleared his throat and said, “We should go.”  
  
  
  
He didn't speak much when they got back on the road and it gave Brienne room to wonder when it was that being in his company stopped being so awkward. It didn’t take long for them to reach her apartment.  
  
“Thank you,” she said as she opened the door. By the time she got out, he was standing on the other side, getting her bag from the back seat.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.  
  
“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to invite me in.” Brienne clenched her jaw.  
  
“Well good, because I won’t.”  
  
“I know,” he said quietly. Then he looked her right in the eyes and grabbed her phone from her.  
  
“Wait, what – give that back!”  
  
“But just in case you change your mind,” he said coolly, “here is my phone number. For – I don’t know – when your car breaks down.” Jaime handed the phone back to her. “I’d say it was a lot of fun, but it really wasn’t.”  
  
She jerked the phone from his hands and stomped away when he added, “I still had a good time though. Don’t be a stranger.”  
  
She glanced back over her shoulder as she reached the entrance of the building. He was leaning against the car, all charm and charisma, ankles and arms crossed against the black SUV.  
  
She felt weird. Should she say something?  
  
“Thanks again,” she mumbled, so quietly she wondered if he even heard her, but judging from the way he bowed gracefully and then got in his car, he probably did.  
  
  
  
“Oh no,” Brienne muttered as she emptied her bag on the steps in front of the building. “Where the _fuck_ are my fucking keys?!” It was as if she was already dialling his number before she even realised what she was doing.  
  
His voice answering the phone startled her so much that she almost hung up.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Yes it’s me. Sorry.”  
  
“Brienne?” Wait, did he sound excited? “Is that you?”  
  
“Yeah. Sorry.”  
  
“Already missing me, are we?” Although he couldn’t see it, rolling her eyes at his words was extremely satisfying.  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself. Listen I...” He didn’t interrupt her, but she realised the sound of his car rumbling in the background had stopped. He must have pulled over. “I ehm...”  
  
“Hmm,” he said, and it felt like he wasn’t pressuring her into hurrying the fuck up, but just letting her know that he was listening.  
  
“Well, turns out… I lost my keys.” She felt a strange prickling sensation when his laugh reached her through the phone.  
  
“Well fuck. Okay, should I turn around?”  
  
“No, I – It’s… ehm… No.” It took some time for him to reply.  
  
“Right… Well -”  
  
“Yes,” she blurted out. “Yes, please, I mean, if it’s not too much trouble. If you don’t mind, because I get it if you’re -”  
  
“I’ll be right there.”  
  
And he was gone.  
  
  
  
It took less than a minute for him to return and he parked his car on the other side of the street before jumping over the curb with a ridiculous little skip.  
  
Brienne couldn’t help but smile.  
  
“Don’t your neighbours have a key to your flat?” he asked as he approached her. Brienne sat on the steps in front of the building with her arms wrapped around her knees. She swallowed as he sat down next to her.  
  
“No, they don’t,” she answered. It was the first time she had said something while looking into his eyes, but it felt so strange, like she was completely lost, that she quickly averted her eyes.  
  
“So what about your friends?” Jaime asked.  
  
“What friends?”  
  
“Eh… The ones… just- your friends? What, you don’t have any friends?” She had to think about that for a second.  
  
“I don’t believe I do, no. Maybe one or two, but we don’t really stay in touch so I’m not sure if that counts.”  
  
Jaime gave her a smile that seemed almost sad, and said, “I don’t think it does.”  
  
Brienne’s voice was very business-like when she spoke again. “Well, in that case: no, I don’t.” Jaime moved closer like he was about to touch her, but decided against it and drew back again.  
  
“How come?”  
  
Brienne sighed. “I enjoy kickboxing and I work with computers. Why do you think that is? Let me tell you why, it’s _not_ because I’m great with people.”  
  
Jaime turned to face her. “Maybe people just aren’t great with you.” Brienne felt her cheeks redden again. “Anyway, I’ll be your friend. If you’ll have me.” She looked away from him.  
  
“It’s just that... I don’t really trust people that easily.”  
  
“Why does that not surprise me,” Jaime said.  
  
Brienne shrugged indifferently. “You don’t know me.” He took Brienne’s bag and got up, reaching his hand out to her.  
  
“I’m starting to. Come on, I’ll drive you back to your car.” As they climbed back into the SUV, she apologised again for calling him. “I’m not sure why I called you,” she said.  
  
“You were thinking about hanging up when I answered, weren’t you?” She blushed again.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”


	2. Chapter 2

“It has to be here somewhere,” Brienne said as she climbed on the back seat of her car, scanning the ground and checking for the key between the seats, while Jaime was searching the front. After a few minutes she looked up at him, frowning. “I don’t get it. It has to be here.”  
  
“Maybe it fell out when you dropped your bag?” Jaime suggested. Brienne raised her eyebrows and their eyes met when he looked back between the seats.  
  
“When _I_ dropped it?” Jaime smiled over his shoulder.  
  
“Fine, when _we_ dropped it.” Brienne rolled her eyes, but Jaime continued, “I’ll check underneath the car.” They got out and knelt down next to each other on the wet asphalt. The rain was getting more and more aggressive with every passing minute.  
  
“Yeah, I think I see it!” Jaime said excitedly. When Brienne spotted the shiny silvery key and tried to reach for it, she bumped her arm against his.  
  
“I can get it. My arms are longer,” she said. Her arms might have indeed be longer than Jaime’s, the key was too far to her left for her to reach.  
  
She could feel the smug look in his eyes burn into her face as he turned to her. “Okay, fine, I can’t reach it. You try it.” He looked disturbingly pleased.

 _What a weird guy.  
  
_Jaime was almost flat on the ground trying to reach for the key.  
  
“Got it!” he yelled way too loudly. They simultaneous tried to get up, but they had an entirely different approach to the matter. Brienne just bent forward to push herself up as Jaime put his arm backwards, hitting her right in the nose with an incredibly pointy elbow and a ridiculously unnecessary amount of force, sending Brienne to the ground again, rolling onto her back.  
  
  
  
Brienne’s eyelids fluttered open against the rain as the pale light of the moon shone on her wet face, and off it – like the stars.  
  
“I’m so, so sorry,” Jaime muttered, as if that would soothe the pain. Brienne’s hands examined her face and even in the dark, Jaime could see the blood streaming down her cheeks and into her hair.  
  
“Is it broken? Am I bleeding?” she exclaimed worriedly. Jaime reached for her face but she slapped his hand away, hissing, “Don’t touch me!” He withdrew immediately, but slowly and almost sadly.  
  
“Don’t be like that,” he pleaded, “I said I was sorry. I didn’t know you were right there.” She shot him an accusing look as she scrambled into a sitting position and felt the cold rain seep through her clothes and onto her skin.  
  
“Idiot,” she said, her voice muffled by the sleeve she used to wipe her nose with. Blood and rain swirled together on her clothes and in her hair, creating a huge mess. She looked so angry that Jaime was certain she was about to spontaneously combust.  
  
Although, it wouldn’t exactly be spontaneous. He would be the fuse. _And_ the spark.  
  
“I can’t believe you _hit_ me,” Brienne continued to mumble. When she looked up again, she found Jaime staring at her. Dark blue eyes glistening in the rain, a crooked nose, a jawline sharp as glass under a sandy stubble. Raindrops slid down his hair onto his face. He wasn’t wearing his coat so his sweater clung to his skin as it soaked up heaven’s sweet tears.  
  
“What?” he asked quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the rain. Brienne smiled a bloody smile and shook her head.  
  
“Nothing. You’re an idiot.” Jaime shrugged indifferently and then looked over his shoulder to his car or on the other side of the road.  
  
“I really am terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She didn’t even try to look away this time. She simply couldn’t.  
  
“I believe you.”  
  
“Good. That’s good. I’m glad.”  
  
They sat in silence, rain pouring down mercilessly on the cold ground as they stared at each other awkwardly until Jaime said, “Look at you, you’re soaking wet and you look awful. Let’s get you out of this rain.” Brienne tried not to let the insult get to her but she couldn’t help but feel offended, even though she imagined he was merely speaking the truth.  
  
This time around, she didn’t hesitate to take his hand when he reached it out to her. She could almost hear the walls she had spent so many years building, start to crack ever so slightly.  
  
As they climbed back into Jaime’s car, Brienne said, “Okay, so now what?” Jaime turned the heat up and handed her a towel from his bag on the back seat. She gave it a disgusted look. “Have you been wiping your sweaty brow with this thing?” she asked, and it took Jaime a couple of seconds before he realised she was actually teasing him.  
  
He might have hit her in the head harder than he realised.  
  
“How is your head? Are you okay?” It was almost touching how worried he sounded. _Almost_.  
  
“I’m fine, but we need a plan.” Jaime shifted in his seat and fumbled around aimlessly. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was nervous.  
  
“Yeah I ehm… I was just thinking. My house is a lot closer than yours. It’s already past 3 am. I just thought… We might as well go to my place.” He could see the blood rushing to her face and quickly added, “I have a spare bedroom. You could call the garage tomorrow morning and I’ll take you back to your car.”  
  
Brienne was staring ahead, still rubbing her hair with the towel. “Really?” she asked sarcastically. Jaime did not understand.  
  
“Really what?”  
  
“You _just_ thought of all this?”  
  
He quickly averted his eyes and explained, “I have a quick mind.” Brienne scoffed.  
  
“I’m sure you do.”  
  
There was a moment of silence again, until Jaime asked, “So? What do you say?” Brienne looked out the window to her car as if that would give her any clarity. She felt so strange. Was it just her or was this night getting weirder and weirder by the minute?  
  
Maybe it was because he hit her in the nose, or maybe because she bumped her head against the asphalt, but before she knew it, she heard herself say, “Yeah, sure, why not.”  
  
  
  
About 25 minutes later they turned right onto a dark, narrow path in the Kingswood.  
  
“We’re almost there,” Jaime announced. Brienne had a weird feeling about the place. It had been minutes since they’d passed an actual house.  
  
“If you say so,” she replied warily. At last, a couple of yellow lights appeared, shining through the dark trees in the distance and as they went along, she could finally see what resembled a house.  
  
Quite a large house, actually. She didn’t know what the deal was with this _mansion_ , but she knew one thing: he did _not_ live here by himself.  
  
_Wait, is he married? No,_ _I_ _would’ve known that. He was a very eligible more-or-less-bachelor.  
  
Oh gods no_, Brienne thought, _the guy has house mates!_ _How bloody awful._ _Or worse, he lives with his parents!  
  
_When they pulled up the driveway, Brienne realised her mouth was slightly open.  
  
“Welcome to my new home!” Jaime said as he got out of the car and walked around to open her door, but of course he was too late and Brienne had already gotten out herself.  
  
“Ha-ha, very funny. Let me guess, you live in a cupboard under the stairs? There’s a pool house? A trailer in the back garden? You live in the attic?”  
  
Jaime got her bag out of the car and laughed as she summed up all of her theories.  
  
“Not quite,” he said as he gestured for her to follow him up the steps to the front door.  
  
“Good lord, you didn’t tell me you still live at home,” Brienne tried as she stared up at the house, equally impressed and intimidated by the mere vastness of the front door.  
  
“That’s because I don’t.” Brienne was confused. Maybe she had a minor concussion and was seeing things that weren’t actually there. Although she didn’t believe hallucinating was one of the symptoms of a concussion.  
  
“A cosy little cabin, you said. You call _this_ a cosy little cabin? This is a fucking mansion!” Jaime turned the key and opened the heavy oak door.  
  
_No shit. A foyer? In a house? The house has an actual foyer?!_ A huge marble stairway curved around an enormous pillar to the first floor.  
  
“What would you have wanted me to say? ‘I own a villa in the woods?’”  
  
Brienne glared at him. “I don’t know, maybe?”  
  
“You already thought of me as being stuck up and conceited.” Brienne averted her eyes.  
  
“Yeah, well...” she mumbled. She couldn’t disagree. He gave her a forgiving smile.  
  
“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Brienne followed him down the steps into the foyer and around the corner.  
  
“Maybe we should agree on like a signal thing, just in case I lose you?” Brienne suggested.  
  
Jaime laughed and said, “You won’t lose me.” Their eyes met for a second when Jaime held the door to the kitchen open, before he looked away again and added “It’s not _that_ big.”  
  
“That’s what she said,” Brienne mumbled.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing.” She paused for a moment. “Jaime, this place is amazing. I can’t believe this is your home!”  
  
That wasn’t completely true though. She knew his father was a very wealthy man in charge of some great corporate empire. She wondered why Jaime left his company, but didn’t dare ask him. Something told her it was a rather sensitive topic. When she glanced over at him, she noticed that he seemed to be rather impressed himself. But then, as she observed him, his proud smile faded into something that instantly made him look like he’d just cried a thousand tears and aged a hundred years. It did something to Brienne, although she didn’t quite understand what she felt. She felt almost… sorry for him.  
  
As soon as it came, the look in his eyes melted away and he turned to Brienne, all brightness and light again, like he didn’t have a care in the world. She doubted it to be true.  
  
“Come on, let me show you your room.”  
  
  
  
The guestrroom reminded her of a beach house, with lots of white and taupe and blue. There were so many pillows on the bed it made her wonder who was responsible for the interior design. She looked back at Jaime, who was plucking at something invisible on his watch.  
  
_Definitely not him_ , she thought as she looked back at the four little seashell paintings that hung above the headboard.  
  
“So, what do you think?” Jaime gave her a hopeful look.  
  
“It’s amazing. Thank you for letting me stay here.” There was a sparkle in his eyes when he nodded.  
  
“I’ll leave you to it. I’ll get you something clean to wear and leave it on the bed for you. Come and meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”  
  
He stood in the doorway, turning the doorknob in his hand. “Call me if you need anything.”  
  
They looked at each other for a moment, until Brienne said, “Thank you.” And with a smile and a polite nod, Jaime left the room.  
  
It had been absolute years since she was last in a bathroom that looked anything like this one. In her own apartment there was barely enough space between the toilet, the sink and the shower to turn around. She looked at herself in the mirror.  
  
_Good lord, I am as ugly as a bear_. The ends of her wild blonde hair were still pink with her own blood. Bruises had already started to form under her right eye and her nose was swollen. _Great_. Brienne took off her clothes and stepped into the shower. The warm water burned on her face but she instantly felt better and 100% less gross than before.  
  
When she got out of the shower she realised there weren’t any towels in the bathroom. _Absolutely fucking wonderful_.  
  
She opened the bathroom door and looked around the bedroom. _Now what?_ On her tiptoes she walked to the bedroom door and opened it just enough to be able to look around the corner.  
  
“Jaime?” she called. He replied so quickly it surprised her.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Do you um… Have any… Towels?” She heard the sound of a book being dropped on a table and heard him mutter to himself as his hasty footsteps moved through the house.  
  
“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. I’ll be right there.” Brienne couldn’t help but chuckle at how she heard him rush through the house, talking to himself. She quickly retreated into the bathroom and waited with the door slightly open.  
  
She heard his footsteps stop outside the room seconds before he knocked.  
  
“I’m in the bathroom,” Brienne said, to which Jaime replied by opening the door with a slight creaking noise.  
  
He slowly walked across the room and his voice was surprisingly quiet when he said, “I’ve got you a towel. Two, to make up for it.” Brienne opened the door a little more to take the towels from him, but dropped the bottom one. As Jaime bent over to pick it up from the floor, muttering an apology, he caught a glimpse of her in the mirror to her left.  
  
Brienne blushed at the realisation, although she could tell he tried not to look. She quickly covered herself with the first towel and took the second one from Jaime while he cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. He could only see part of her face as she looked at him.  
  
“Right, okay. Bye,” he said awkwardly.  
  
“Bye.” She pushed the door closed and rubbed her hand over her face with a deep sigh.

 _Bye? Seriously?_  
  
She wondered what Jaime was doing on the other side of the door, because there was a long moment of absolute silence before she heard him leave the room.  
  
Jaime had left her some black sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a blue hoodie. The pants were a little tight and a little short, but the t-shirt fit her perfectly. Her shoulders were probably just as wide as Jaime’s, her breasts were relatively small and in comparison to her legs, her torso was rather short. Jaime smiled at her when she appeared in the kitchen and thanked him for the clothes. And the towels.  
  
They spent over an hour outside. There was a large roof over the terrace and an outdoor sofa around the fire pit with cushions more comfortable than the mattress on Brienne’s bed. When Jaime came back with their drinks, he opened a crate that served as a small table and took out a warm blanket which he gently draped around Brienne’s shoulders.  
  
For a long time, they didn’t really speak much but just stared at the fire, enjoying the sound of the rain on the canopy above them and the crackling and sizzling of the flames. As the ice inside Brienne melted, they talked quietly about work and the party. Brienne felt surprisingly relaxed and for some reason that scared her. It felt like she was losing control, and as soon as she realised that, she felt the vault of her heart close rapidly and once it was shut, she knew there was no use in trying to reopen it tonight.  
  
She finished her drink and then got up, folding the blanket and handing it back to him.  
  
“I’m going to bed. Thank you for everything.” Jaime got up, put out the fire and followed her back inside. It wasn’t until they had reached Brienne’s room that Jaime spoke again.  
  
“Good night, Brienne,” he said quietly.  
  
Every time he gave her that look it made her feel like there was something else he wanted to say, but when nothing else followed,  
  
Brienne replied, “Good night, Jaime.”  
  
  
  
Brienne woke to the sound of birds singing and the smell of coffee and bacon. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so well and it took her at least 5 minutes to recuperate from that feeling. Her stomach rumbled as the smell of breakfast filled her nostrils.  
  
As she walked out of her room she heard Jaime’s voice from the kitchen and she couldn’t help but smile, although the smile quickly faded away.  
  
“I know darling, I miss you too. I promise we’ll see each other real soon.” Brienne froze in the hallway, just around the corner of the kitchen and frowned at his words. Who was he talking to? He laughed a most charming and genuine laugh that made Brienne roll her eyes. “Yes, yes of course I remember. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”  
  
There was something strange going on in her stomach. It clenched and twisted and it took her a moment to realise what that meant. She leaned against the wall and shook her head.  
  
“You idiot,” she whispered to herself as she knocked the back of her head against the wall, as if that would make her thoughts go away. “Fucking idiot.”  
  
Jaime must have heard her, because he lowered his voice when he quickly finished his phone call, saying “I can’t wait to see you too, I have to go now, bye.”  
  
Brienne used the time it took for him to say the words to carefully back away from the kitchen and disappear into her room. She could hear Jaime call for her, then stay quiet for a little while, awaiting her response and then resuming his kitchen activities.  
  
She was shaking her head so violently it almost made her dizzy. If there was one thing she was good at, it was cursing herself.  
  
“I should have known better,” she mumbled to herself as she picked up her clothes from the bathroom floor. “Honestly, what was I even thinking?”  
  
That shut her up for a moment. What _was_ she thinking? It would be a lie to tell herself that she didn’t hope – and even think, just for a moment – that there could be something between the two of them.  
  
She would _never_ settle for being just another one of his whatever-he-calls-them. She made the bed so that it looked as though she had never been there. Like she wiped away every trace of herself, like she hadn’t gone with him. That way, maybe she could pretend she hadn’t let him in yet.  
  
Then she put on her shoes, while her thoughts continued to scream at her.  
  
_You know what he’s like. Everyone knows what he’s like, and you were almost stupid enough to let him convince you otherwise._  
  
As she threw her bag over her shoulder she mumbled, “I can’t go through this again. I won’t.”  
  
  
  
She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but definitely not _this_. Jaime stood in the kitchen – which looked as though a tornado had just raged through it – wearing grey sweatpants, a surprisingly charming yellow sweatshirt and a scarlet apron.  
  
_He's really wearing an apron_.  
  
His damp hair covered his brow and there was a streak of flour on the side of this nose.  
  
Brienne was quite sure her mouth hung open for a little while.  
  
“Wow,” she eventually said, drawing Jaime’s attention.  
  
“Good morning!” he exclaimed happily as he turned to face her . “I made pancakes.” Jaime looked around at all the food and added, “Among other things.”  
  
The counter was barely visible under all the food. He turned around and his face fell when he realised what was happening.  
  
“Wait... Are you leaving?” Brienne blinked a couple of times to make the feelings of confusion go away.  
  
“Yes, I- I am.” Jaime wiped his hands on his apron and walked over to her. “But why? I made breakfast. At least stay for breakfast. Why are you in such a hurry?”  
  
Brienne’s gaze drifted over the food and then back to Jaime’s confused face and she immediately felt bad.  
  
Just not bad enough.  
  
  
  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I- I shouldn’t. I have to go.” She turned around to walk away with Jaime right behind her, following her out of the kitchen.  
  
“I don’t understand. Why are you leaving?” Brienne was starting to feel annoyed now and she couldn’t help but snap at him,  
  
“Of course you don’t understand.”  
  
She wasn’t even fighting him, she was fighting herself, but judging from the look he gave her, he clearly did not see that and she couldn’t blame him.  
  
“Brienne, please.” He grabbed her arm. Why was he making this so hard for her? “I know I can’t ask you to stay, but-”  
  
She pulled her arm free, avoiding his eyes.“You’re right, you can’t.” She hurried through the foyer.  
  
“But what about your car?”  
  
“I already called the garage.” Brienne walked up the steps to the front door but turned around when she heard Jaime grab his keys off the side table.  
  
“At least let me bring you back to your car,” he said and it almost sounded like a plea.  
  
She shook her head, clenching her fingers around the doorknob.“No need, I called a taxi and it’s already here.”  
  
Jaime looked defeated and beyond confused, but he wasn’t the only one who felt confused.  
  
Brienne didn’t even know what she was doing. Part of her wanted him to beg her to stay - to ask her for another hour, another minute, another twenty seconds and they could call it their forever if that was all they’d get. But she knew it was impossible for Jaime to understand that this was what she wanted, because everything, _everything_ she was doing, told him otherwise.  
  
She just couldn’t help herself.  
  
“I’m really sorry. Thanks again.” She stepped outside and lowered her eyes before she looked up at him one last time.  
  
She had just enough strength in her voice to add, “For everything.”  
  
And with those last words, she closed the door behind her and got into the taxi.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Part of her wanted him to beg her to stay - to ask her for another hour, another minute, another twenty seconds and they could call it their forever if that was all they’d get"   
> Circumnavigate - Another twenty seconds


	3. Chapter 3

Jaime didn’t do much for the rest of the weekend. There were no deals to be made, no people to meet or places to go. He didn’t even leave the house on Saturday and on Sunday, all he did was go on a hike in the woods.   
  
He walked for over 2 hours and when the rain started pouring down from the heavens, instead of running home, he sat down near the river and watched it grow. He thought of all things. Work, his father, dinner and finally, he thought of Brienne.   
  
_Strange Brienne_.   
  
No one had ever left him in a greater state of confusion than she had. She made it quite clear she was not interested in him, so why did his mind insist on wandering off to thoughts of her? He felt like he had lived a lifetime in that one evening they had spent together.  
  
He shook his head and wiped the rain off his face.   
  
_Someone must have really hurt her_ , he thought as he got up. _Why else would she be so damn distant all the time?  
  
_ He wondered if she had ever truly loved someone. Although she came across as cold and stubborn and indifferent, if anything, she seemed lonely to Jaime. As he climbed down the rock he slipped on a treacherous strip of moss and fell on his bum.   
  
Too lazy to get up, he stared up at the canopy just like he had done the night before.   
  
_Brienne_. _Jesus, again?  
_  
Rather annoyed with himself, he jumped up and started walking. He had mostly zigzagged aimlessly through the woods, so now that he was actually trying to get somewhere, it didn’t take him too long to find his way back. His clothes were dripping wet and so gross from his fall in the mud that he undressed himself as soon as he walked through the front door. When he walked past the kitchen, the sight of all the untouched food on the counter made him grunt to himself.  
  
The shower he took was so hot and so long that his skin had gone all red and wrinkly and when he got out, it was like stepping into a cloud.   
  
As he reached for the towel and rubbed his face dry, he saw two piercing blue eyes staring back at him from out of the darkness of his closed eyes.  
  
“ _Aargh_!” he exclaimed in frustration, before stepping out of the bathroom, dripping water everywhere. In his lifetime, he had made plenty of women storm out of the house and he never blinked twice.   
  
_What made this time any different? Why do I even care?_ His inability to find an answer to that, annoyed him even more.  
  
“Bloody women,” he muttered to himself as he got dressed.   
  
When he finished, he went back to the guest room where Brienne had stayed. He could hear a little voice in the back of his mind asking him why he hesitated before entering, but he pushed the voice away like he had done all his life.   
  
Strange… It was as if she hadn’t even been there. The only trace she left were the two towels, neatly folded on the counter. He didn’t realise what he was doing until he saw himself in the mirror, touching the towel like he was stroking someone’s hair.   
  
He frowned at himself, took the towels and threw them in the laundry basket before he went back into the kitchen and threw out everything he had left on the counter since Saturday morning.   
  
Then he got his book, lay down on the sofa with his feet up and a glass of wine on the table and spent the rest of the evening telling himself he was actually reading, rather than glancing over the words and mindlessly flipping the pages every once in a while.   
  
He decided that he didn’t care about Brienne.   
  
She was nothing to him.  
  
  
  
Two and a half hours.   
  
He couldn’t wait more than two and a half hours since coming into the office before he _had_ to see her.   
  
First, he spent over 30 minutes trying to think of someone else’s task to steal as an excuse, but eventually he gave up and stalked out of the office and into the elevator to the third floor. When he walked out, he realised he had no clue where to go and what was worse, he didn’t even know where exactly she worked.   
  
He hadn’t taken more than 15 steps before he felt the first stares. Admittedly, he did look rather out-of-place between all these nerds and geeks. Jaime wrinkled his nose.   
  
It even smelled like nerds and geeks. And where were the women?   
  
He wandered down the hall and took a left turn. When he walked past an open office door and saw a young man sitting at a desk facing the window, he decided to knock.  
  
When the guy turned around to face him, Jaime asked, “Excuse me, do you know where I can find Brienne?”  
  
He sounded just as bored as he looked when he asked, “Who?”  
  
Jaime hesitated. “Brienne?” he repeated.  
  
“You mean Brian? He works for Sales now.”   
  
He was about to turn around again, but Jaime insisted, “Not Brian, _Brienne_. A woman? Very tall? Blonde? Pale? _Tall_?” He held his hand up above his own head to show him just how tall she was.   
  
Jaime gave him a hopeful look, but there was nothing. Just... a big, blank load of nothing.  
  
“Never mind. Thanks,” he said before watching the young man shrug, pop his earphones back in and go back to whatever it was that he was doing, or pretending to be doing.  
  
Jaime went back down the hall until he passed the break room. There were three people playing cards and eating lunch. He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall before clearing his throat to draw their attention.  
  
“Sorry, does anyone know where I can find Brienne?”  
  
“Fifth floor,” a large man with long brown hair tied up in a ponytail grumbled. Jaime frowned. _But the fifth floor is…_ He sighed.  
  
“Not _Brian_ , Brienne. Bri-enne. _Jesus_.” A rather short, spectacled man whose mouth and nose seemed to drown in his ginger beard chuckled.  
  
“Room 3.25. Left, past the doors, should be on your right.”   
  
Jaime nodded politely at him and followed his instructions until he found room 3.25. There he waited in front of the door like an idiot, until someone came up to him from behind and asked him, “Can I help you?” Jaime turned around with a jolt, but smiled in relief when he found the head of IT staring back at him. His cool blue eyes in a face of steel looked him up and down. He blinked slowly, awaiting Jaime’s response.   
  
“Well?” he urged. Suddenly the door opened and someone bumped into him with a large box, which caused the bottom to unfold, sending a dozen headsets tumbling to the ground.   
  
_Why does this keep happening?_ Jaime asked himself as he crouched down to put the headsets back in the box.  
  
“I’m terribly sorry,” the boy said. Jaime found he was rather good looking for an IT-guy, with curly brown hair, bright brown eyes and a kind smile. “I didn’t see you.”  
  
“No, honestly, it’s my fault. I always do this.”   
  
Somewhere in the office, someone dropped something heavy, and it made both Jaime and the boy look up.  
  
The stupidest of smiles appeared on Jaime’s face as he recognised Brienne’s bruised, flushed face from behind her computer. He quickly untangled the last headset, put it back in the box and sent the curly haired boy on his way.  
  
“Hi Brienne,” he said as he walked over to her.  
  
“Jaime, what are you doing here?” Brienne answered while she started nervously piling up some paper work and putting the collection of pens that lay scattered all over her desk, back in the pencil case.  
  
“Oh, well, I came to-”  
  
“Brienne?” A cold voice interrupted Jaime and if he hadn’t just blinked for half a second, he would’ve sworn Brienne flinched at the sound of her name.  
  
“Yes?” Her voice was small, quiet, like she _had_ to answer, but didn‘t really want to be heard. Jaime turned around to find the head of IT walking towards them. It seemed to Jaime that Brienne tensed in her chair as he came closer. Jaime looked around to notice that the room had gone very quiet.   
  
Everyone was staring at their computer screens or had their heads buried in some paperwork.   
  
_That’s_ _very diligent_ , Jaime thought, _very responsible_. Yet something seemed amiss. This wasn’t the kind of let’s-show-the-boss-how-hard-we-work-behaviour that he was used to. And, well, having worked for his father for over 10 years had made him very familiar with that sort of behaviour.   
  
It distracted him so much that he missed what the man had said to Brienne when he leaned over the side of her desk.  
  
It was her voice, still so strange, that brought him back when she said, “I thought it wasn’t due until tomorrow.”   
  
The man narrowed his cold eyes. “Yes, well, plans change, Brienne. Now be a good girl and finish those reports.” He straightened his back and in a weird way, he seemed almost twice as tall as Brienne when he touched her arm and gave it a little squeeze.   
  
“I want them on my desk by 4.” His eyes met Jaime’s only for a second, but it was enough to raise the hairs on Jaime’s arms. Jaime waited until he left the room and it felt as though someone dropped a water balloon on a spike and life suddenly flourished again in a field of deathly silence.  
  
“What a creep,” Jaime whispered as he watched the door close behind him. The curly haired boy had come back in and sat down at the desk opposite Brienne’s.  
  
“Who, mister Bolton?” he asked. Jaime looked back at the door.  
  
“Right,“ he said, remembering, “Roose Bolton.” He found the name had a strange taste to it – equally sour and bitter.   
  
“Roose,” he repeated, “how fit a word is that vile name.” The boy chuckled but Brienne barely responded. She just stared at the pile of paperwork with dark eyes and a worried frown on her face.   
  
She went through the pages again and again but didn’t seem to actually register anything.  
  
“Are you alright?” Jaime asked quietly.   
  
Nothing.   
  
“Brienne?” She stopped moving, but didn’t look up.   
  
Jaime put a hand on her shoulder and she jumped up like a deer that hears a gunshot, and yelled, “Don’t!”   
  
The room went quiet again. Jaime held his hands up, innocently.   
  
“Just… Don’t,” she repeated, before she pushed him aside and stormed out of the room.  
  
Jaime was absolutely lost.  
  
“What the hell was that?” he asked the boy, who gave him a confused look.  
  
“What was what?”   
  
_Wait, did he not see that? Did he not think that was weird?_   
  
Jaime checked his phone to find that 20 minutes had already passed and he had 7 text messages and 3 missed calls.  
  
“You, what’s your name?” He realised he sounded like his father and swallowed the resemblance away.  
  
“Renly,” replied the boy.  
  
“Well, Renly,” Jaime said, “You make sure she is alright when she comes back. Tell her I’m in 9.33 if she needs me.” Renly blinked at him but gave what seemed to be a semi-understanding nod, and Jaime walked out.  
  
As he went back to work, Jaime made sure everyone who left his office, left the door open. He even opened the blinds on the windows to the corridor, something he normally never did. She never showed, though.   
  
He thought about texting her, or e-mailing her, but he only ever got as far as “Hi Brienne” and after 8 tries, he gave up.   
  
She didn’t want to see him, he should just let it go already.   
  
And so he did.  
  
  
  
At least, until Thursday, that is.   
  
It was the strangest thing, he simply could not get her out of his mind, no matter how many times he told himself he shouldn’t – and _didn’t_ – care about her.   
  
It’s true, she made quite an impression on him the first time he saw her.   
  
She wasn’t exactly beautiful. No, she really wasn’t. She was rather odd, and not just to look at, he’d come to know. She was extremely tall and pale, with rather square shoulders, a long and slender neck, wide hips and a face covered in freckles.   
  
Her eyes were relatively large and extraordinarily blue. Her lips were full and her nose was sharp – but both were scarred and Jaime figured it wasn’t just her physical appearance that showed some deep scars.   
  
She was intriguing, to say the least.  
  
On Thursday he heard two people, a woman from customer relations and a man Jaime only knew as “Locke”, discuss some kind of rumour as he entered the break room on the 9th floor.  
  
“It’s probably not true though,” the woman said as Jaime walked over to the coffee machine. “I mean, no offence, but who would try to get it on with _her_?”   
  
Locke threw his head back with laughter.  
  
“Yeah she’s probably just desperate for some attention. I’m sure she doesn’t meet a lot of guys,” someone else said.  
  
The woman shrugged. “Or women. Or cows.”  
  
Two other people at the table started laughing, one of whom said, “She’s probably a lesbian. But who cares, I’d do her, wouldn’t you?” The man looked over his shoulder to Locke.  
  
“Just put a bag over her head and ride that thing, _yeehaw_!” he replied, throwing an invisible lasso and riding an invisible bull.   
  
The laughter only fuelled his ridiculous behaviour.   
  
“Oh yes, that’s a good cow, yes, YES!”   
  
The woman next to Jaime was now wiping her tears with a napkin.  
  
Jaime looked around as they continued to joke about riding bulls with dicks of steel.   
  
A few weeks ago he would have probably been the one making the jokes, but it didn’t feel right to laugh now.   
  
It wasn’t funny.   
  
In fact, he found their jokes cheap and revolting and it angered him.  
  
“Oh, there she is now! Ready for another round, Bri?” Jaime’s stomach twisted as he turned around to find Brienne in the doorway, her face as red as the earth’s core.   
  
Locke himself looked nothing short of a tomato, visibly sweating from all the attention he received, while the others just continued laughing and mooing, or pretending to throw lassos at her.  
  
“That’s enough,” Jaime said, but his voice was little more than a whisper slithering through their thundering laughter.   
  
He expected her to start crying, and although there were no tears, the hurt was right there for everyone to see. She shook her head and walked away. It was almost as if someone punched him in the chest with a sledge hammer.   
  
Jaime pushed his colleagues aside to run after her, muffling their laughter and turning it into a frenzy of whispers, having given them another spark to relight the fire that feeds off rumours until it’s strong enough to burn a house down.   
  
Or someone’s life.  
  
As he left, he could just hear one of them say, “Oh my god, do you think they…?”  
  
“Brienne!” Jaime’s voice echoed through the hall, drawing even more attention to Brienne as the elevator doors closed in front of him. He saw the numbers on the display change from 9, to 8, to 7, opened the door to the stairwell and flew down the stairs.  
  
“Brienne, wait!” She stalked across the parking lot and Jaime had trouble keeping up with her, panting and sweating from running after her. “Will you slow down?!”   
  
When Brienne got to her car, she went through her bag to find the key, but her hands were trembling with anger.  
  
Jaime put his hand on hers but she pushed him away, yelling “Don’t you touch me! Just go back to your friends, I’m sure you’ll have a great laugh.”   
  
Jaime shook his head and walked around her so she wouldn’t be able to open the door.  
  
“I had nothing to do with that! I didn’t even know they were talking about _you_.”   
  
When she finally found the key, she dropped her bag on the ground and stared at him, her eyes ablaze with deep blue anger. “Oh, and that makes it alright?”  
  
“No, that’s not what I meant.”  
  
“I don’t care what you meant, just piss off,” she hissed at him while trying to put the key in the lock.  
  
“People are idiots, they make stupid jokes. Don’t let them get to you. It’s _stupid_ ,” Jaime said.  
  
“Really? Just that? You think it’s _just that_ , do you? God you’re so…” She finally managed to put the key in and tried to open the door, but Jaime pushed it shut again.  
  
“You shouldn’t drive when you’re this upset.”  
  
“I don’t care, I have to get out of here.” Brienne just stood staring at the car until Jaime took the key from her and opened the door.  
  
“Then I’ll drive you.” Brienne dropped her hands to her sides, panting with anger but losing the strength to fight him.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she warned him. Jaime smiled at her.  
  
“Then we won’t.”  
  
Before they left, Jaime quickly texted his boss that he had to take the rest of the day off because of an emergency, and e-mailed the secretary asking her to reschedule his 3 pm meeting.  
  
Brienne just stared out the passenger window, until Jaime asked her, “Where do you want to go?”  
  
She looked at him, but only for a second, before she said, “Anywhere.”  
  
  
  
They drove for about 20 minutes and didn’t really speak. It had been a long time since Jaime had driven a manual transmission car, and every time he failed at shifting gears, Brienne couldn’t help but chuckle.  
  
“You drive like a bloody woman,” she mumbled when a fancy BMW passed them at the traffic light, the driver frantically waving at them with one hand, honking the horn with the other.   
  
Jaime didn’t really care. If anything, he was glad that it at least made her smile.   
  
They drove out of town and past dozens of fields until Jaime found a spot with the fence down. They both chuckled as they were thrown from left to right when the car went over bumps and through pits in the field.   
  
Eventually he turned off the engine, got out and climbed on the bonnet of the car, leaving Brienne behind, frowning in confusion.   
  
He tapped on the empty spot next to him and mouthed something through the window.  
  
“What?” Brienne asked soundlessly.  
  
“Come on!” he called out.   
  
He held his hand out to pull her up on the bonnet and when she settled next to him – making sure there was enough space between them by moving a little to the right – she let out a deep sigh and looked around.   
  
There was only the soft rattling noise of her car and the wind that swept through the tall grass.  
  
“There is _nothing_ here,” Brienne said after a while.  
  
“I know,” Jaime replied, putting his hands under his head as he leaned backwards. “Isn’t it amazing?”  
  
They sat in silence for almost half an hour, until Jaime finally said, “So what were you doing on the ninth floor?”   
  
Brienne pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. It felt like minutes had passed before she answered.  
  
“I came to see you,” she said. Jaime sat up and stared at her from the side, but she refused to look at him.  
  
“You did? Why?”  
  
“I came to…” She took another deep breath. “I came to apologise.”   
  
Brienne looked over her shoulder just long enough to see the confused look on his face. “For how I behaved on Monday.” She paused and then added, “When you came to see me.”   
  
Jaime lifted his hand to place it on her shoulder but he saw the wary look on her face and changed his mind.  
  
He was incredibly anxious to say the wrong thing, so he decided to go with, “No need.”   
  
She looked back at him, nodded and turned to stare into the distance again.  
  
“Thank you,” she said.  
  
Jaime thought of how she thanked him ‘for everything’ before she left on Saturday. He desperately wanted to ask her what all that was about, but something told him he’d better stay quiet.   
  
There was something about Brienne that made him feel like she was constantly fighting something within herself. Even when she was quiet – and she had been nothing but quiet since the first time they met – it felt like on the inside, she _was_ talking.  
  
Or screaming.   
  
She just never let it out. She kept it locked away, safely hidden with the rest of her.   
  
He wished there was a way to tell her it was okay, to convince her that she could trust him.   
  
That he really could be her friend, if she’d let him.   
  
That, despite what he’d been telling himself, he _did_ care.   
  
Even though he did not know why.  
  
Jaime had no idea how much time had passed until Brienne suddenly said, “I shouldn’t have left like that. It was ungrateful and rude and I’m sorry. You must think I’m an awful and fucked up person.”   
  
Jaime understood that she wasn’t talking about their encounter on Monday anymore.  
  
“You’re not awful,” he reassured her, wondering why he didn’t address the ‘fucked up’ part. “I just… I don’t understand what happened,” he tried, cautiously.   
  
She remained silent for a while, but Jaime could almost hear her thoughts rushing through her head like a river through a dam.  
  
“I know,” she eventually said. “I’m sorry that I can’t explain. It’s just… complicated. Everything is really… Complicated.”   
  
Jaime felt bad for her. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her it was okay, but by now it was very clear she did not like to be touched.   
  
Not by Roose Bolton, not by him.  
  
“You don’t have to explain.” Brienne let out a sigh of relief and then got up. Jaime followed her lead as they got back into the car.  
  
“So where do we go from here?” she asked.  
  
He smiled at her. “Who knows.”


	4. Chapter 4

Brienne didn't even bother turning on the light when she entered her apartment that evening. Instead, she mindlessly threw her bag in the corner and sat down on the dark blue sofa, ready to start staring at the ceiling.   
  
Cars passing by on the street below her window sent strange streaks of light through the thin white curtains, which seemed to engage in a rather complicated waltz with the shadows above her. The symphony created by the sounds of the city didn’t really fit the visuals though.   
  
She had forgotten to close the window before she left for work in the morning, so the room was freezing, but she enjoyed being able to feel the soft breeze on her skin.   
  
The way the curtains casually swayed in the wind reminded her of the room in Jaime’s house. Brienne let out a deep sigh.   
  
_Jaime_.   
  
The thought of him forced her lips into a little smile when her memory pressed ‘play’ on a vision of the two of them together on the hood of her car in a field somewhere. Even if it was only for a little while, she had felt something she wasn’t used to feeling.   
  
She felt _free_.  
  
She checked the time on her phone and then got up to close the window, turn on the lights and change into her workout clothes. Then she walked into her tiny kitchen – which was basically still her living room, but with an oven, stove, fridge and sink – she went about opening and closing the fridge without taking anything from it.   
  
She wasn’t hungry, even though she hadn’t eaten anything since her 11 am apple. Her mind wandered off to memories of the afternoon, when she went looking for Jaime and found him in the break room with a bunch of other people.   
  
Just a quick blink of her eyes was enough to see their faces, laughing at her, making fun of her the way people had been doing for as long as she could remember.  
  
There were no words to describe how that made her feel.   
  
One would think after a lifetime of having to deal with this kind of abuse, she had gotten used to it. And in a way, she had. It didn’t hurt her nearly as much as when she was younger.   
  
It was just one more scratch to a wound that had been healed and reopened countless times before.   
  
She remembered the shock on Jaime’s face when he saw her in the doorway.   
  
The desperation when he tried to convince her he didn’t have anything to do with it.   
  
The worry when he offered to drive her somewhere - anywhere.   
  
At first, she found it very hard to believe that he wasn’t one of this confederacy. She had seen and heard him make fun of people more times than she could count. In fact, she had witnessed him being as asshole so many times, that she had decided that he was just that: an absolute _asshole_.   
  
Yet somehow, even though she tried not to believe him, even though she didn’t want to accept his attention, his words, his friendship – she seemed to lose every time. And when he took her keys from her and offered to not take the pain away from her but take her away from the pain, she found herself agreeing to it before her mind had the time to come up with reasons to refuse.  
  
Brienne opened the fridge for the fifth time and made herself a small yogurt bowl with blueberries and banana and sat down at the table before checking the time again.   
  
_Twenty minutes_.   
  
She found herself going through her contacts to find Jaime’s number and pressed on ‘message’. There was no message history.   
  
_What am I doing?_ she asked herself. _I don’t have anything to tell him.  
  
Or do I?   
  
_She shook her head and put the phone on the table with the screen facing down, because that made it easier to ignore the urge to look at it.   
  
If only she could just _stop_ thinking about him.   
  
Having his phone number right there really wasn’t helpful. In fact, it was rather annoying.   
  
_He_ was rather annoying.   
  
She had decided months ago that she didn’t need anyone. That people were complicated and exhausting, demanding and confusing and she didn’t need that in her life.   
  
She didn’t _want_ that in her life.   
  
But there he was, making her question basically everything other than being alive.   
  
Sometimes she even asked herself, _am I awake? It seems to me that yet I sleep, I dream_.   
  
Honestly though, what did he even want from her? Why was he so persistent after the way she had treated him? He must be out of his mind. Or just another one of those guys who wants to know what it’s like to… She couldn’t even finish her own thought because it made her feel sick.   
  
She hadn’t even eaten half of her meal when she shoved it away and was about to get up when her phone buzzed on the table. She frowned at it, wondering who it could be. Truth be told, she didn’t really get any text messages. _Ever_. Not since her father had died and she moved to the mainland, leaving the few friends she had behind, never to be heard from again.   
  
She tried to ignore how her heart rate was increasing and how she could feel the blood creeping up to her cheeks.   
  
About three minutes of her staring at her phone passed, before she finally turned it around.   
  
_Jaime_.  
  
 _ **Hi Brienne, I hope you’re feeling better. Good luck tonight. Jaime.** _  
  
She stared at the message for minutes, reading it over and over and over, perhaps trying to find words that only revealed themselves if she’d stare at them long enough.   
  
Even after going over it twelve times, she wasn’t sure if she understood what it said.  
  
Feeling rather pathetic, she asked herself, “Can you read?” and put the phone away again.   
  
Brienne’s gaze involuntarily drifted to her bedroom, where she could see the blue hoodie draped over the back of a chair.   
  
_I should really give that back_ , she thought reluctantly. She had been wearing it every evening since last weekend and she had washed it twice already, planning on giving it back.   
  
On Wednesday she even put his clothes in a bag and the bag in the car, but when she opened the door in the parking lot and stared at it, something made her shut the door and leave it there, just to bring it back inside when she got home in the evening.  
 _  
The text message_. Brienne opened it again.   
  
Surprisingly, it hadn’t changed.   
  
No letters were missing, no new words had mysteriously appeared.   
  
Then suddenly her attention was drawn by the clock on the wall and she realised she’d spent way too much time staring at the message like an idiot and now she was late for her training and she wasn‘t ready to die just yet.  
  
  
  
“Ten crunches for every minute you were late,” a growling voice sounded through the gym. His voice alone was so intimidating that it made a young boy on her right, miss his target.  
  
“I know, I’m very sorry.”  
  
“Being sorry won't win you that damn medal though, will it?” Brienne realised he always sounded like he was in a bad mood. Whenever he yelled, he sounded like an angry dog. And he looked like one, too. Perhaps that was why they called him ‘the Hound’.  
  
“No, sir,” Brienne replied while she threw her bag on the bench and climbed into the ring. He was still going on about the importance of being on time when he started wrapping her hands.   
  
It wasn’t until he had finished wrapping her right hand that he looked up to see her bruised face.  
  
“Jesus, who did you fight?” he asked with his face twisted in half a frown as he placed his massive hand under Brienne’s chin and turned her face to the side.   
  
Frowning made Sandor Clegane look almost funny. Having an exploding firecracker thrown at him by his older brother when he was just a boy, had caused the skin on the right side of his face - and most of the muscles and nerves underneath - to melt. There was a chunk of hair missing and so was his right eyebrow and part of his ear. The skin on his cheek and neck still looked pink and raw. The way the right side of his face drooped, made him look chronically angry and sad. It wasn’t just his face though.   
  
The Hound was even taller than Brienne and twice as wide and thrice as strong, with a deep, raw voice to match his impressive appearance. Although he looked rather intimidating, Brienne knew his bark was worse than his bite. All he ever did was growl and command, and push her to work harder, get stronger, be better - but she had known him for a long time and she knew he was a good man with a kind heart.   
  
And even though it was a rare sight, when he smiled, it did something to Brienne.  
  
Brienne slapped his hand away and said, “No one,” while she held up her left hand for him to start wrapping it, hoping that it would distract him.   
  
Sandor’s face finally relaxed and he raised his good eyebrow.  
  
“Well, this _No One_ seems to have a strong right hook.”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes. “It was an elbow, actually.” Sandor chuckled.  
  
“If you say so. I hope you’ve returned the favour.”  
  
“It was an accident,” Brienne explained. The Hound merely grunted with half a smile on his face. They both stayed silent until both Brienne’s hands were wrapped and ready to go.   
  
“All done. Now get on with those crunches.”   
  
The crunches were fine. It was the actual training that wasn’t. Brienne just wasn’t feeling it and it was quite obvious. She was too slow to hit the targets and kept messing up the order of the punches.   
  
The tension between them was growing steadily and it didn’t take long for Sandor to get annoyed.  
  
“Get your head out of your ass, Brienne, left-left-right-left-right, it’s not that fucking hard. Come on, again.” Brienne tried to will her thoughts away, but stupid little memories blurred her vision and voices in her head were ringing so loudly they were drowning out the sound of Sandor’s instructions.   
  
After she missed a high kick for the third time in a row, Sandor slapped her on the head with one of the focus mitts.  
  
“ _Ow_! What did you do that for?” Brienne cried, but Sandor replied by slapping her on the shoulder with the other mitt.  
  
“Where the hell are you? Because it’s clearly not here.”  
  
“I don’t fucking know,” Brienne exclaimed in frustration as she climbed through the ropes and jumped down. She could feel his dark eyes observing her and it made her feel uncomfortable.   
  
_What’s next, are we going to discuss our feelings over a cup of tea?_  
  
“What’s going on with you?” he asked her, his voice less demanding and more worried. Brienne had her back turned to him so it was safe for her to roll her eyes without him noticing.  
  
“Nothing,” she lied as she put on her left boxing glove, but by this time, Sandor had also jumped down and taken the other glove from her.  
  
“You won’t be needing this tonight,” he said.  
  
Brienne gave him a confused look and asked, “Why not?”  
  
He pulled the other glove off her hand and set them down on the bench.   
  
“Your head’s not in it.” He paused and looked at her for a few long seconds. “And neither is the rest of you.”   
  
Brienne raised her eyebrows and took a breath in to start her protest but he waved at her dismissively, turned his back to her and climbed back in the ring. “I think you need a break. I’ll see you on Sunday.”  
  
“But what about tomorrow’s training?”  
  
“It’s cancelled,” he said without looking up. “It seems your focus is needed elsewhere. Get your shit together.” Brienne knew there was no point trying to argue with him, so she slowly packed up her bag and made her way to the door.  
  
“One more thing, Brienne,” Sandor called after her. Brienne turned around to look at him. The gym seemed to be covered under a thin layer of smoke.   
  
“Give the guy a chance, will you?”   
  
Brienne continued to stare at him until long after he had started meddling in someone else’s business.  
  
  
  
When she arrived back home, the first thing she did was check her phone.   
  
Yep, the message was still there.   
  
And she still hadn’t answered.   
  
Maybe she should leave it like that. And then eventually, he would forget about her and she could move on.   
  
But as always, there was a lot of internal conflict going on within Brienne and it was exhausting.   
  
She wanted to yell at him to leave her alone, she wanted to ignore him, to drive to his house and sit outside by the fire, she wanted to thank him, to punch him, to talk to him.   
  
She wanted to listen to him, to draw him in and push him away.   
  
And to hug him.  
  
The evening hours seemed to crawl past.   
  
Brienne scrolled through her Netflix account and picked one of the recommended films, but she wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what it was about.   
  
The only thing she remembered was that the main character’s name was Peter.   
  
Or maybe it was Pete.   
  
Or... John?   
  
No matter what she tried to distract herself, she kept thinking about Jaime.   
  
The voices in her mind were constantly arguing about his intentions.   
  
For a moment, it seemed like they were settling on him just trying to be a friend, but eventually everyone seemed to agree that he was just another one of those superficial unfaithful pricks that wanted to go on a little adventure, and the only reason he kept coming back to her was because he wasn’t used to being refused by a woman and _that_ probably only turned him on.   
  
She figured she probably wasn’t even a woman to him, but a game.   
  
“Catch the freak”.   
  
_No thank you_.   
  
She deleted his message and went to bed.  
  
That night she had the strangest dream.   
  
She dreamt that there was a rat in her house and everyone kept warning her about how she needed to kill it because it carried all kinds of diseases and it was just a matter of time before it would bite her. She would hear the rat at night, but he simply wouldn’t show himself. When she eventually did find it, she couldn’t get herself to kill it and so she sat on her bed, observing the rat everyone warned her was so dangerous, listening to the voices screaming at her to kill the animal, but not finding the courage to do it, because something told her maybe it wasn’t that dangerous after all.   
  
It was all very, _very_ confusing.  
  
She spent the time it took her to get ready for work going over that dream in her head. When she got into the office she was beyond relieved to find out that her boss had called in sick.   
  
Truth be told, she had been quite nervous about going into work after everything that had happened.   
  
She wondered if it was just a coincidence that Roose was now off sick, or that it could have something to do with what she had done and the rumours it started as a consequence.   
  
A very intentional consequence.  
  
  
  
That afternoon, Brienne decided to enjoy her lunch break outside, even though it was cold and windy and dark clouds were rising, warning them that there was a storm coming.   
  
Nothing could convince her to spend her break in a room full of people trying to avoid talking about what had happened the day before.   
  
Because of course, by now, everybody knew.   
  
Or at least, they _thought_ they knew.   
  
Renly was the only person she could bear to be around, so he joined her on her walk through the office garden. They had just finished their lunch when someone approaching them from the left, made them both look up.  
  
Renly instantly stood up and said, “I ehm, I should probably get back inside. See you in a bit.” Before she could ask him to stay, he had thrown his coffee cup in the bin and his hasty footsteps carried him out of sight.   
  
He only nodded when he passed Jaime on his way back.  
  
“Hello, stranger,” Jaime said. “Mind if I join you?” Brienne shrugged. “Didn’t you get my text?” She felt how she was starting to blush again. _For fuck’s sake_.  
  
“I did, but I ehm… I just. I guess I kind of...”  
  
Jaime chuckled. “It’s alright. I didn’t really expect you to reply.” Brienne didn’t really know what to say, although there were plenty of things she wanted to tell him.  
  
“I should probably get back. My break is almost over,” she said as she took out her phone to look at the time. Not that she actually saw what time it was.  
  
“Right, of course,” Jaime muttered as Brienne got up and started walking back through the garden. When she looked over her shoulder to find him running after her, she felt a strange tangle of gratitude and vexation in her chest.  
  
There were 4 other people in the elevator when they entered. Three of them looked as though they were about to shit themselves when they saw Jaime and Brienne together.   
  
Jaime did not seem to care.  
  
“So, listen, I was thinking,” he said casually, as the elevator door slowly slid shut, “I’m going out for drinks after work, would you like to join me?” Brienne stubbornly stared ahead and refused to look at him because she was afraid of what she might feel if she did. The elevator opened when they reached the second floor and someone else stepped in.   
  
“It’s just going to be me and a few others from Marketing,” Jaime continued. He must have seen the disgusted look on her face, because he quickly added, “They’re the good guys. I promise.”   
  
_Guys?  
  
_ Brienne felt a wave of awkwardness crash over everyone in the elevator, followed by a jolt of relief when the doors to the third floor opened.  
  
“I don’t think so,” she said while she stepped out. Part of her wanted to say “Maybe some other time,” and she turned around to say the words, but the door was already closing, until Jaime stuck his arm out to make it open again.  
  
“Just in case you change your mind, I’ll be at _The Oathkeeper’s Inn_ on Dorne Street. _We_ will. All of us. Not just me.”  
  
“I said _no_.” She didn’t know what came over her - the words seemed to just pour out of her mouth without her permission.   
  
Jaime looked slightly defeated as he let go of the elevator door and it closed shut, creating a perfectly unbreakable barrier between the two of them. Just as she wanted. But if that was what she wanted, then why did she feel so damn lost?  
  
The rest of the afternoon went by like the wind that raged through the trees outside. The storm was coming, but that hardly influenced anyone’s typical Friday-afternoon-mood.   
  
Even the freaks and loners who had nowhere to go during the weekend, were happy to escape the daily dread that was their office life.   
  
A sigh of relief went through the office when their 4 pm meeting was cancelled due to mister Bolton’s absence. Renly was the only one who looked at her, kowingly, when they received the cancellation.   
  
Brienne was glad to be surrounded by people who never asked her about anything personal. They probably all knew what had happened, but they either didn’t care, or pretended not to care. And Brienne was perfectly fine with that.   
  
All she wanted was for the whole thing to blow over. She should never have said anything. She should’ve known this would all blow up in her face. These things always do.   
  
Her father always told her men in high positions are practically invincible when it comes to things like this.   
  
But there was something else her father had taught her.   
  
A week before he passed he told her, “Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you.”  
  
According to his online timetable, there were about 15 minutes left before Jaime would go home. Brienne sat nervously tapping the back of her pen on the desk until Renly kindly asked her to stop.   
  
He was the only one who seemed to have more than 2 active brain cells in whatever region of the brain it is that controls social behaviour.   
  
Suddenly, Brienne pushed her chair back and stomped out of the office as a strange sort of excitement took hold of her.   
  
Before she knew it, she found herself in the long hallway between the offices and conference rooms on the 9th floor. She wasn’t too happy to be back, but tried not to think about that as she made her way past rooms 9.38 and 9.37.   
  
As always on Friday, practically everyone had already left. She slowed down when she passed 9.35 and heard a familiar voice coming from two rooms ahead. Her heart skipped a beat or two when she recognised his voice, but something in the way he sounded made her stop in her tracks when she reached his office.   
  
The blinds were shut, but the door was open.  
  
“No, no I didn’t,” she heard him say. “I know it took me some time but isn’t 117% more than a great result?”   
  
Brienne leaned backwards to watch through a little crack between the blinds and the window frame. Jaime had his hand over his forehead and looked rather stressed. It made her feel uncomfortable.   
  
Although he seemed to be discussing business, something made Brienne feel like this was a private conversation and she should probably leave him to it, but for some reason, she couldn’t get herself to leave.   
  
“No, I’m _not_ an idiot. I’ll do better next time.” He sounded disappointed. “I don’t know, I’d just hoped that you’d be more…” He paused.   
  
It was so quiet in the hallway that Brienne could hear the other person screaming through the phone. “No, I get it. You’re right,” Jaime said. Brienne felt confused. He sounded so different. He was always so confident, so sure of himself. And now he sounded like a schoolboy who gets yelled at for spending too much time playing football and not enough studying.   
  
“Yes, I’ll get right on it. Okay, bye.” He threw his phone across the desk and shoved his paperwork to the side before burying his face in his hands.   
  
Brienne took a deep breath before she knocked on the door and stepped inside.  
  
“Hey,” she said in a voice much smaller than the one she used when she was practising in her mind. Jaime looked up, startled.   
  
He was clearly very surprised to see her, but something made Brienne feel like it wasn‘t necessarily a pleasant surprise and the look he gave her, made her regret coming to see him.   
  
_Again_.  
  
“What are you doing here?” He sounded so distant, so cold.   
  
So unlike Jaime.   
  
All the words she had prepared to say, had mysteriously and quite suddenly evaporated into thin air, dissolved into nothingness.   
  
“Well? What are you looking at?” The anger in his voice took her by surprise. It made it even harder for her to remember what she wanted to tell him.  
  
“Well, I just-” she stammered. Jaime narrowed his eyes, visibly annoyed.  
  
“You just? You just _what_?” Brienne tried to remain calm, quietly begging for the words to come back to her.  
  
“I just, I heard you on the phone and… I thought you were...”  
  
Jaime scoffed. “Don’t presume to know me. You don’t. You know _nothing_.”   
  
_What?_  
  
Brienne blinked at him, confused. Why was he being like this? She only wanted to tell him...  
  
“I don’t, I wasn’t-”  
  
“ _I don’t, I wasn’t_ ”, Jaime repeated in a mocking voice. “If you can’t even make a complete sentence, then what the fuck are you doing here?”   
  
Brienne started to feel anger rising up from deep within her, fuelled by the voices in her head that screamed, _'See? I told you so'._   
  
Jaime pushed his chair back against the window with so much force that the glass trembled in its frame.   
  
The way he came toward Brienne made her want to back away, but she stood nailed to the ground and just stared at him.   
  
His eyes were so different it almost scared her.   
  
“You can stand there and look _stupid_ all you like,” he barked at her, “some of us actually try communicating with people and don’t just shut everyone out like a fucking brick wall.”  
  
He slammed the door in her face and just like that, the wall was back up and the vault was closed again.  
  
Outside, the wind crashed into the building, knocking on the windows and seeping through the cracks.   
  
The storm was coming.


	5. Chapter 5

The paperwork went flying through the room when Jaime wiped it off the desk in one clean sweep, before collapsing onto his chair.  
  
His heartbeat was pulsing in his ears and he felt anger.  
  
Anger towards Brienne for finding his weak spot.  
  
Anger towards his father for _being_ his weak spot, anger towards himself for letting Tywin get to him, again.  
  
For allowing him to bring out the worst in himself, for still desperately seeking his approval and for giving him the power to make him feel like a miserable, good-for-nothing piece of shit.  
  
He stood up and walked over to the door to look down the corridor.  
  
Most of the lights were out and Brienne had gone.  
  
After two weeks of trying to get her to open up, he went and threw every ounce of progress he had made out the window when he slammed the door in her face.  
  
Did she deserve it?  
  
Probably not.  
  
But did he deserve a tyrant as a father?  
  
Probably not.  
  
With his head bowed down and his soul in his arms, he walked back to his desk and started picking up the paperwork.  
  
Through his floor-length window he saw birds tumbling through the sky like autumn leaves. The wind sent plastic wraps, paper bags, dust, feathers and leaves spiraling up and down and swept them across the street.  
  
In the middle of it all, he saw Brienne walking to her car. He must have forgotten that he was on the ninth floor because he found himself knocking on the window and calling her name. Her shoulder length blonde hair and bright blue scarf danced in the wind. He made a mistake.  
  
“You idiot. You _fucking_ idiot,” he said to himself.  
  
Jaime watched Brienne leave like watching water slip through your fingers.  
  
And quite like with water, the more he tried to hold on to her, the more she slipped away.  
  
Jaime found that, even from a distance, she looked different than the other people walking across the car park.  
  
She was like a dragonfly amongst ants.  
  
Like a palm tree in the desert.  
  
Like the moon amongst stars.  
  
 _Yes_ , he thought, _quite like the moon_.  
  
 _Surrounded by stars, yet still alone_.  
  
  
  
When he finished work, almost three hours later than he had planned, Jaime went home.  
  
He didn’t get very far before he changed his mind.  
  
What if she showed up in the bar and he wasn’t there?  
  
That would surely leave an irreparable dent in what little bond they had built.  
  
And so he went back into the city, found _The Oathkeeper’s Inn_ and sat down at the bar.  
  
Alone, of course.  
  
He was never supposed to meet with anyone else. All he wanted was for Brienne to show up.  
  
He’d been an idiot for thinking that mentioning the presence of other people would persuade her to join him.  
  
His shirt clung to his skin like it had done that night she came home with him. There had been weather alerts on the radio all day, warning people throughout the region to stay inside after 7 pm because of the storm.  
  
Clearly, most people had decided to listen, because there weren’t nearly as many people out and about as one would expect on a Friday evening.  
  
The strong and sudden gusts of wind and slamming rain were nothing compared to the storm he felt inside, though.  
  
Jaime ordered a shot of tequila and tapped the glass against his forehead in a way of saying cheers to himself. It’s what his brother used to do.  
  
He checked his phone more times than he could count, hoping against better judgement to have received a text message from her.  
  
Gods, he felt like such an idiot.  
  
Another shot.  
  
He shouldn’t have gone off at her like that. But then again, she shouldn’t have eavesdropped on his private conversation. And besides, she had done nothing but push him away and it was frustrating him.  
  
Infuriating him.  
  
The only reason he got so angry is because he _cared_.  
  
Another shot.  
  
As he continued to drink, he continued to argue with himself about what had happened and about how he had behaved.  
  
Jaime played a couple of games of eight-ball with some random guys, but after a while he was too drunk to even remember which team he was on, and the more he drank, the angrier he got.  
  
The anger rose inside him like a wildfire and the tequila fuelled the flames quite like a hot summer breeze or the blazing sun.  
  
 _Why does she have to be so damn difficult?_ _Why_ _do I_ _have to be the one who’s patient with her feelings?  
  
_ _Why can’t she be patient with me?_ _  
  
D_ _oes_ _she think she’_ _s_ _the only one who’_ _s_ _been through shit?_  
  
It was around 9.30 pm when he decided to text her.  
  
  
  
The steam climbed over the edges of the shower and crept through the cracks between the glass door until the entire bathroom – which wasn’t nearly as impressive as it sounds – was all cloudy, until she could no longer see herself in the mirror.  
  
Brienne lit the candles on the cupboard and on the shelf above the sink like she always did and sat down in the shower. At first, she tried to ignore the notifications of her incoming text messages, but after a while she gave into her curiosity.  
  
She had six messages, even though she had only heard four of them.  
  
The first two were an apology.  
  
The third seemed rather accusatory.  
  
The fourth and the fifth were simply _angry_ and the sixth, well… She had no idea what he meant to say with the sixth.  
  
She put her phone on silent mode but found herself looking at it every five minutes or so.  
  
It was practically raining messages.  
  
Some were very short – only a word, “please”, or “why”, “sorry” and “please” again.  
  
Others were the size of a small novel, but the words were even more messed up than whatever he tried to say, so Brienne didn’t really understand.  
  
Was he mad at her?  
  
Or was he apologising?  
  
Or both?  
  
The amount of confusion Brienne felt was starting to annoy her and she buried her phone under a couple of cushions, trying to pay attention to some Netflix show she’d put on to distract herself.  
  
Who was she kidding?  
  
By 11 pm his texts were starting to worry her. They were all over the place and went from happy to sad to angry to apologetic faster than one can flip a light switch.  
  
Then he started calling her.  
  
The third time he called, she was worried enough to answer the phone.  
  
When she spoke, there wasn’t much left of the aforementioned worry.  
  
“What?” she snapped.  
  
“Okay… Okay...”  
  
He was drunk.  
  
No, he was _very_ drunk.  
  
He was _pissed_.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘okay’?” Brienne asked impatiently.  
  
“Is that you? Brienne. It’s a good name. Why aren’t you – oops, sorry man – why, where are you?”  
  
She paused the TV because she had trouble understanding his slurred speech with all the noises in the background.  
  
“I’m home. Why are you calling me, Jaime?”  
  
“Home,” he repeated, but his voice trailed off and the music in the background was now so loud that Brienne had to turn the volume on her phone down. She didn’t hear the rest of what he tried to say.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked half worried, half annoyed.  
  
“I am… I’mmmm…. Hmmm… Yeah, I’m waiting. Waiting for the sun ha-ha.” Brienne screwed up her face in a mixture of confusion and agitation.  
  
“What does that even mean?” she asked, pacing through the room.  
  
“The sun. Where is it?” She could hear him stumbling around, taking a drink and slamming the glass down on a table.   
  
“Where are you?” he added, sounding more drunk by the second.  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes. “Where are _you_?”  
  
“Yeah… It’s a really good place. Great. But no sun. There’s no sun. It’s so fucking… dark. I should-”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Jaime?” Brienne asked, before she looked at her phone to find he had hung up.  
  
“Great,” she muttered. “What a fucking moron.”  
  
At first she put her phone aside, but she quickly decided she was too worried to let it go, so she tried calling him back.  
  
She sent him a text, asking him to call her but when he didn't reply, she called _him_ one more time.  
  
His phone went straight to voicemail.  
  
Of course now that she _wanted_ to talk to him, he didn’t answer.  
  
 _Oh well,_ _what do I care_ _?_ _I hate_ _drunks.  
  
He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself._  
  
Only a few minutes of her staring at the TV had passed until disturbing visions of a drunk Jaime stumbling to his car or getting robbed and beaten in some dark alley started invading her brain.  
  
She opened the chat to read the 9 messages she had received before he called her.  
  
It was just more of the same, really. Strange, he normally seemed like such a composed guy. She didn’t really expect this messy side of him. It seemed so unlike him.  
  
She texted him once more. He didn’t reply. She called him again, still no answer.  
  
It was like she had just decided to go and find him when she was already halfway across town on her way to the bar.  
  
  
  
 _The Oathkeeper’s Inn_ was indeed a dark and particularly smelly bar, with mostly male guests. The air was heavy with beer, sweat and cigarette smoke.  
  
She found Jaime seemingly half asleep at the bar, with his head resting on his right arm while he spun a shot glass around with his left hand. When she sat down next to him, she noticed that he had one eye open and the other one closed.  
  
Jaime looked up when he was able to focus on her.  
  
“Ha,” he said with a drunk smile, “You look like my friend, but she never has fun so you can’t… _possibly_ … be her.”  
  
Then he requested another shot of tequila and dropped his head on his arm again, before going back to spinning the glass.  
  
He looked miserable.  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes.  
  
“Actually, I think you’ve had enough. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” He blinked at her, slowly, and then frowned at his glass.  
  
“Oh I’ve had enough alright,” he mumbled. Brienne felt like he wasn’t just talking about the drinks. She gestured towards the bartender to cancel Jaime’s order.  
  
“I think you should go home,” Brienne said. Jaime sat up again and leaned towards her. He was sweating and looked extremely tired.  
  
“You’re telling me what to do now? Don’t make me laugh. _You_ go home.” He raised his hand to draw the bartender’s attention but Brienne pulled it down again.  
  
“Jaime...” she pleaded.  
  
“ _Jaime_ ,” he repeated in a mocking voice. “Go away. You depress me.”  
  
Brienne felt a jolt of anger in her chest and fought the urge to get up and leave, like he said. Instead, she said something she didn’t expect herself to say.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
She wasn’t sure if he heard her, or if he understood. He just stared at his glass in silence.  
  
Eventually, he got up and turned around to walk away, almost falling over and bumping into a disturbingly old couple, kissing against a jukebox. He muttered and apology and walked on, fumbling around in his pockets. Brienne walked after him and said,  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“You’re right. I’m going home,” he answered, barely audible, when he finally found his car key.  
  
“Not like _that_ , you’re not. How can you even consider driving like this?”  
  
He spun around to look at her, but in doing so he lost his balance and bumped into her. His shirt was damp from his sweat and he smelled. Brienne pushed him back on his feet again and took the key from him.  
  
“I’ll get you a taxi,” she said, but he didn’t listen and walked outside.  
  
The wind crashed into them hard enough to make Jaime lose his balance again. Brienne took another step towards him and made him sit down on the pavement, leaning against a brick wall. She looked up and found the roof above them was about blow away, but the rain was absurdly heavy and because she didn’t want to go back inside, there was no other option than to wait outside.  
  
It didn’t take long for Brienne to realise she left her phone at home. She reached her hand out to Jaime, who sat with his head between his knees, moaning.  
  
“Give me your phone,” she commanded.  
  
Jaime did as she bid him, while he said, “I don’t feel well.”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes.  
  
“Yeah, no shit,” she mumbled as she tried to get the phone to work. “Jesus,” she continued. “Did your battery die?”  
  
Jaime looked up, shrugged, and let his head down again.  
  
She was certain she wouldn’t be able to find his home in the storm and didn’t trust his current sense of direction. He could barely form a complete sentence.  
  
Unintentionally, her mind wandered off to the night he took her home when her car broke down and Brienne looked back at him. He seemed like a completely different person and she felt sorry for him.  
  
Although she still felt that he had treated her unreasonably after the phone call, she found her anger and hurt had subsided.  
  
Brienne didn’t really drink, but in a way, she recognised how lost he seemed and took a deep breath before she bent over to take his arm.  
  
“Come on then,” she said as she pulled him to his feet. “I’ll take you home.” Jaime stumbled after her as they crossed the street in the pouring rain.  
  
“I don’t think I... I don’t want to,” he mumbled behind her. She could barely hear him over the sound of the rain slamming down on the world.  
  
Brienne sighed, slightly annoyed, but didn’t turn around.  
  
“You don’t want to _what_?” she called over her shoulder. “To go home?”  
  
It took a few seconds before he replied.  
  
“To be alone.”  
  
This made Brienne turn around.  
  
They hadn’t been in the rain for more than 30 seconds, yet they were completely soaked. It reminded Brienne of the night her car broke down, but back then Jaime stood stall like a tree – confident (borderline arrogant, actually), strong, _present_.  
  
Now he swayed on his feet, seemingly smaller in every possible way, and older too.  
  
And _sad_.  
  
Rain streamed down his face, his eyes were red and his hair hung sadly over his forehead like the branches of a weeping willow.  
  
They stared at each other in silence while the storm raged around them.  
  
“You don’t have to,” Brienne eventually said. “I’m taking you home. _My_ home.”  
  
Brienne wasn’t even sure if he nodded in approval or if it was the alcohol messing with his sense of orientation, but she took it as agreement and led him to her car.  
  
  
  
About 20 minutes later, Brienne parked her car on the side of the road. Jaime pressed his nose against the window and tried to look outside.  
  
“You live here? It looks… different… I think,” he said. Brienne shook her head.  
  
“I live over there, but there’s a road block ahead so I won’t be able to park in front of the building. We’re going to have to walk.”  
  
Jaime moaned in disappointment but Brienne shrugged his behaviour away, saying, “A walk will be good for you.”   
  
As they were nearing Brienne’s apartment, they saw that one of the utility poles had fallen over and the cables were twitching and slithering on the ground like venomous serpents, lashing out at everything around them with bright white and blue sparks. The entire left block was covered in darkness, as far as they could see.  
  
Just before they walked up the steps to the main entrance, Jaime turned away from Brienne and vomited into the bushes next to the pavement.  
  
“Jesus,” Brienne said, “Are you alright?”  
  
He waved at her dismissively and straightened his back only to be overwhelmed by another violent wave of vomit. This time he realised it too late and threw up all over his shoes and his shirt.  
  
He looked confused and embarrassed as he started to wipe the vomit off his shirt, but Brienne hesitantly put her hand on his back and said, “Just leave it. You’ll only make it worse. Do you need to sit down?”  
  
Jaime shook his head and followed her up the steps.  
  
“Come on,” Brienne said, “We’re almost there.”  
  
She had always hated and never pitied drunk people.  
  
Especially men.  
  
Drunk men behaved like a bunch of uncivilised animals and Brienne thought it was pathetic.  
  
But somehow, she didn’t hate Jaime and she _did_ pity him, but in a way that made something deep in her chest tighten in a strange and unwelcome way.  
  
She led Jaime up the stairs and through the darkness of the corridor to her apartment. The stench that came off him was awful; it was a mixture of sweat and rain and alcohol and vomit. And he was so quiet, it was very unnatural.  
  
Brienne decided that as much as she had rolled her eyes at how talkative he was, she wished he would say something now.  
  
Anything.  
  
"It isn’t much, but it’s warm and dry. I’d apologise for the mess – I wasn’t expecting guests – but I guess it’s too dark to see it anyway.”  
  
Jaime stood staring in the doorway, a faint smile on his face. Brienne waited a couple of seconds for him to say something, but when nothing followed, she added, “Take off your shoes. They’re disgusting.”  
  
Jaime used the heel of his one foot to take the shoe off the other and then did the same with the other shoe. He had to stabilise himself against the door frame to stop himself from falling over.  
  
Brienne quickly went through the room and put the dirty dishes in the sink, put a lost bra away in a random drawer and swept a wandering sock under the sofa with her foot. Then she went about lighting at least twelve candles and ordered Jaime to close the door behind him and put his shoes outside on the balcony.  
  
They were both soaked to the skin.  
  
Jaime looked like a walking disaster.  
  
“You should take a shower,” Brienne suggested, realising once more that it was strange to be the one talking all the time.  
  
Jaime followed her into the bathroom.  
  
“It’s not exactly like yours but it gets the job done,” she said as she took a towel from the lowest cupboard and she realised it sounded almost like an apology for not being rich.  
  
Jaime started unbuttoning his shirt and Brienne reached inside the shower to turn the water on. She made a little jump when the cold water hit her arm. By the time she was done organising the shampoo and shower gel, Jaime was still working on the first button.  
  
Brienne stared at him for at least half a minute, before she couldn’t stand it any longer.  
  
The sight of him failing at undressing himself was just too much to bear.  
  
“Oh move aside,” she hissed at him as she slapped his hands away. He gave her a lost look, but let her pull himself towards her by his shirt.  
  
Brienne felt how he stared at her while she undid the buttons.  
  
Then, out of nowhere, he reached for her face and pushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear.  
  
She immediately put her hand on his arm and asked, “What are you doing?” Jaime blinked at her, confused. He almost looked as though he truly did not realise what he was doing.  
  
“I...” he stammered, “I- I don’t know.”  
  
Brienne pulled his hand down and finished undoing the last buttons as Jaime continued to stare at her. She felt the heat creep up her neck and face as his gaze wandered over her chest.  
  
She might have used a little more force than necessary to pull his shirt open, but at least it snapped him out of his stupid stare.  
  
His skin was a beautiful shade of warm gold, with the annoyingly perfect amount of hair on his chest and stomach.  
  
Brienne felt a strange, warm sensation low in her belly as she helped him out of his shirt and waited for him to undo his pants.  
  
There was no way in hell that she was going to help him with that. As soon as he looked down at his belt, he started swaying again.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Brienne complained as she took him by the arm again. “I hope you’re not going to be difficult about this.”  
  
She unclasped his belt, undid the button on his jeans and pulled the zipper down.  
  
“You’re really on your own with the rest,” she told him. “I don’t care how long it takes you. I’m not doing it.”  
  
And with that, she walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her.  
  
She could hear him stumbling around, bumping into the shower, stubbing his foot against the toilet and cursing, knocking over the toiletries on the shelf above the sink.  
  
She couldn’t help but chuckle.  
  
  
  
Brienne was just finishing washing up when Jaime walked out of the bathroom in his underwear. For some reason, the sight startled her so much that she dropped a plate in the sink, sending a small fountain of water over the edge and onto her clothes and the ground.  
  
“I don’t suppose you have something for me to wear?” he asked, barely noticing Brienne’s distress.  
  
Brienne tried to wiped the soapy water off her clothes in vain, and said, “Actually, I do. They’re right there. I never got around to giving them back to you.”  
  
Jaime stumbled into her bedroom to the chair with his own clothes draped over the back.  
  
“Are these mine?” he asked hesitantly.  
  
“Yes. Just put them on.”  
  
She really wanted him to put his clothes on, like _right now_.  
  
Judging from the way he spoke and moved around, the walking, vomiting and showering had actually done him some good. When he finished dressing himself, he came back into the room and slumped down on the sofa, visibly exhausted. He mumbled a thank you and Brienne nodded before disappearing into her bedroom to retrieve a pillow and a blanket.  
  
“Lie down, you need to sleep,” she said before she went into the kitchen to look for something.  
  
By the time she came back, he had already settled down with his eyes closed and the blanket up to his chest. Brienne sat down on the coffee table and touched his shoulder to wake him from his half-sleep. Then she handed him a glass of water and some kind of pill.  
  
“Take this,” she said. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”   
  
He looked at her with red and half open eyes, and frowned upon seeing her face, as though he suddenly remembered something, and said, “I dreamed of you.”  
  
Brienne tried to suppress a smile and rolled her eyes as he took the pill and drank his water.  
  
“I did,” Jaime insisted. "I dreamed that you took me away.”  
  
“I don’t think you were dreaming,” Brienne said, quietly. Jaime closed his eyes and hummed in half-agreement.  
  
Then suddenly, his eyes flew open as fast as his hand reached for her face when he pulled her in to kiss her.  
  
Their lips crashed into each other like a wave hits the shore, and Brienne felt an electric current course through her veins as his lips opened against hers, breathing a warmth into her that went straight to her chest.  
  
Then, as if nothing happened, he let go and fell back into the pillows.  
  
“I’m tired,” he whispered.  
  
Brienne’s heart was pounding in her ears - she couldn’t hear anything or even think or move.  
  
Her limbs were heavy and her insides were on fire, but she heard herself say, “Then go to sleep.”  
  
“Hmm,” he hummed and fell asleep within seconds.  
  
Brienne sat frozen in place for the longest time, staring at his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he took.  
  
When she was certain he was completely gone, she gently brushed a strand of hair off his forehead.  
  
Even though Brienne was surrounded by darkness, it felt like the sun was rising right there, in the middle of her room.  
  
After what felt like hours, Brienne refilled his glass of water and left a phone charger with him before she went to bed.  
  
She didn’t fall asleep until the birds sang of morning and the cold light crept through the curtains.


	6. Chapter 6

It couldn’t have been more than three hours later when she woke to a strange rattling noise in the kitchen. It took a few seconds for Brienne to realise it wasn’t a burglar going through her stuff looking for treasure, but Jaime. As soon as her mind filled with the thought of him, so did her chest fill with a radiant heat that rose all the way to her mouth.  
  
The duvet landed on the ground next to the bed with a soft thud. Was it just her or was it like a 1000 degrees inside? Brienne tried to look around the corner of the room into the kitchen but Jaime was just out of sight. Unintentionally, her finger tips brushed her lips as if to check if the kiss really happened or if it was just a cruel trick of the mind. She wasn’t sure, and hearing Jaime struggle to light the burner on the stove in the kitchen was distracting. Pretty soon, the room was filled with the smell of fried eggs. Brienne’s stomach growled as she got up. She was just about to walk out of the room when she realised she wasn’t wearing any trousers.  
  
Looking down at her legs, she’d just decided to try and sneak past him to get her joggers from the living room, when Jaime called, “Morning sunshine!” His voice startled her and, in a reflex, she pulled her t-shirt down to cover herself up. Jaime chuckled and looked away.  
  
“Sorry about that,” he said. “In fact, I’m sorry about everything.”  
  
Brienne was beyond relieved that, even though he was apologising, he sounded like his strong and confident self again. But then, as he started casually paddling down his infinite river of words, she also remembered just how annoying that _confident_ side of him could be. He apologised for texting her and calling her and for the way he yelled at her at the office - although he never explained why exactly that was.  
  
She found a pair of black leggings behind the sofa and quickly put them on, while Jaime was babbling away about one thing or another.  
  
“Where’s the bacon?” he finally asked while he used a spatula to attack the eggs that sizzled in the pan.  
  
Brienne sat down on the sofa with her legs crossed, and replied, “At the supermarket, I suppose.” Jaime looked at her over the counter and frowned.  
  
“What? Who doesn’t eat bacon with their eggs? That’s a fucking sin!” Brienne rolled her eyes.  
  
“I’m sure you know all about sins.” He gave her an equally confused and offended look, and seemed to take a breath in to say something, but didn’t.  
  
Jaime was just putting the eggs on some toast, when Brienne felt a strange buzz to her right. It was Jaime’s phone. She wasn’t sure why, but it took a couple of seconds for her to respond, almost like she didn’t know what to do. Eventually, she found the phone under one of the cushions and walked over to Jaime. Before she handed it to him, she couldn’t help but look at the screen.  
  
“It’s Lyanna – sorry, didn’t mean to look.” Brienne felt how she started blushing and at the same time, she felt like someone punched her in the chest. Jaime looked down at his phone and Brienne tried to read his face, but she had no idea what he was thinking. He didn’t seem to feel like he just got caught, but then again: the best ones never do. Besides, he didn’t have anything to hide or at least no one to hide it from.  
  
“I’ll call her back,” he said as he pressed “ignore” and put his phone down on the counter.  
  
 _Just one question_ , Brienne thought. _All I need to do, is ask him who Lyanna is. Or maybe I should ask him straight up if she is his girlfriend.  
  
No. No, I shouldn’t.  
  
It’s none of my business.  
  
Or is it?_  
  
“Hellooo? Where are you?” His voice came from miles away and reached her not unlike a sudden gust of wind. Brienne shook her head and blinked a couple of times.  
  
“Sorry, I was lost in thought.” Jaime nodded understandingly and brought the plates to the dinner table. It was still early and there was a thick layer of fog that drifted between the buildings like a fluffy cloud. Above it, the sun shone its orange light down onto the world. From Brienne’s apartment, it was like the outside world was divided into two separate universes, and they were caught between the two.  
  
They ate their breakfast in silence while they enjoyed the morning light and quiet streets below, and whenever their eyes met, they’d exchange warm and meaningful smiles.  
  
“So, what do you want to do today?” Jaime asked as he carried the dishes back into the kitchen. Brienne immediately felt uncomfortable.  
  
 _What kind of question is that? Does that imply that he wants to do something together?_  
  
“Oh, well, I um...” she stammered. “I have kick-boxing practice at 11. So, I guess we, I mean you should probably...”  
  
 _Gods, this is hard._  
  
Jaime didn’t seem to notice her struggle, or maybe he had grown immune to it, because he said, “Oh that’s fun, I could come with you!”  
  
"Well, actually... I, well... My coach isn’t really a fan of audiences. He says they’re distracting. Among other things.” She couldn’t look him in the eye when she lied, nor when his disappointment cut through her soul like a painful memory.  
  
“Oh, okay. No problem, I’ll just-”  
  
“But we could walk there together,” she interrupted him without thinking. “And from there, you could take the bus back to the _Oathkeeper’s Inn_.” There was something in his smile that made Brienne want to look away. It wasn’t until he asked her if she happened to have a clean pair of socks for him, that she was able to look him in the eye again. The question threw her off, mostly because she thought he made a joke she didn’t understand, but when he started rubbing his arm in a way that had become rather familiar to her, she realised he was serious. It was an actual, genuine, normal question. Brienne told him she kept her socks in the drawer next to the mirror in her bedroom, but he’d have to excuse the mess.  
  
She wasn’t kidding about the mess.  
  
Brienne hadn’t as much as turned around when she heard the sound of a building collapsing, or Jaime knocking over her mirror and breaking practically everything she owned. She flinched.  
  
"Fucking hell!” she exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing?” It was a rhetorical question that needed no answer. It was quite clear what he was doing. He had tried to reach the drawer, knocked over a vase, tried to catch it, bumped into the mirror that fell over, tried to catch _that_ and eventually tripped over a pile of books and fell backwards into the mess he’d just created.  
  
“ _A_ _a_ _rgh_ ,” he groaned in pain. “What the hell _is_ that?” He reached behind him to feel what was stabbing him in the back, but it was covered under a heavy blanket and a coupble of bags. Brienne couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him buried alive between the mess that was her room.  
  
“That,” she said as she reached out her hand to pull him up, “is my keyboard.” As she pulled him to his feet, they both looked down at the mess and Brienne took the blanket off the keyboard. “Or at least... It used to be,” she added.  
  
Jaime gave her an embarrassed look as the amount of damage he had caused started to dawn on him. The mirror was cracked, the vase broken, the pile of books was damaged by the water from the vase and the keyboard, well... It had practically broken in half.  
  
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, pulling the broken mirror up and re-piling the books he knocked over. “I promise I’ll pay for everything. I can’t believe I broke your keyboard in two.” Brienne cleared her throat awkwardly.  
  
“That wasn’t you.” Jaime gave her a confused look.  
  
“It wasn’t? What happened to it?” Brienne nodded towards the trophies she had won over the years and said, “ _I_ happened.” Jaime thought it best not to ask what she meant by that and started picking up the pieces of sky blue ceramic from the floor.  
  
“I didn’t know you play the piano,” he said, looking up at her while she leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed.  
  
“I don’t.” She wasn’t sure if he just shook his head ever so slightly or if she imagined it, but she elaborated either way. “I mean, not anymore. I used to, but now... I just don’t.” Jaime glanced over at the broken keyboard again.  
  
“Hm... I guess it’s hard to create something from something that’s broken.”  
  
She let his words drift between them for a while, before she mumbled, “Yeah, I guess so.”  
  
Brienne could see Jaime’s attention was drawn by something that had been hidden under a veil of oblivion. Before she could stop him, he reached over and pulled two very expensive looking and extremely high heeled shoes from under the bed.  
  
“Wait, are these yours?” Brienne’s cheeks flushed and she rolled her eyes, grabbing the shoes from him.  
  
“So what if they are?” She felt offended by his question and responded accordingly, aggressively wiping the dust off the black shoes with her t-shirt. Jaime chuckled and rose to his feet only to sit down on the edge of the bed, looking at her.  
  
“I don’t think shoes like that are supposed to be shoved under the bed between god knows what else you keep there.” If Brienne was trying to stop blushing, it was no use. “Put them on!” he added excitedly. Brienne shook her head and put the shoes down.  
  
“What? No. Don’t be weird.” Jaime shrugged her insult away, grabbed the heels from the floor again and shoved them back into her hands.  
  
“I’m not, come on, I’m sure they look great on you!” he insisted. Brienne wished he would stop making her feel so uncomfortable, but at the same time she felt a strange kind of excitement deep in her chest.  
  
The rare and paralysing kind.  
  
“I don’t think I…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Her voice trailed off when she saw Jaime looking at her with those childishly hopeful blue eyes.  
  
 _Oh f_ _or fuck’s sake_.  
  
“Fine,” she sighed.  
  
  
  
Jaime could still feel the burn of the keyboard in his back. That would surely turn into a nice purple bruise, but for some reason he didn’t want to show Brienne that he was in a pretty decent amount of pain. What he wanted, was for her to put on those incredibly high heels, just to see how magnificently tall she’d be. She sat down on the blue chair between the door and the broken mirror.  
  
Jaime didn’t know much about fashion, but he knew enough to recognise that these weren’t just any random pair of black heels with red soles. As he watched her take off her socks and slide her feet into the remarkably expensive shoes, he wondered why she had responded so defensively when he had asked about them. He didn’t mean anything by it…  
  
Jaime didn’t say anything while Brienne tied the black straps around her ankles, but he was pretty sure he gasped when she rose to her feet, towering over him like a mighty pine tree. Elegant and strong, graceful yet still intimidating.  
  
"Wow,” he breathed. “You look… Extraordinary.” His eyes wandered over her body, taking in every glorious bit of her. Brienne shuffled around awkwardly.  
  
“Just say I’m fucking tall, Jaime,” she mumbled.  
  
“What? Are you serious?” They stared at each other until Jaime got up and walked over to her. He contemplated taking her hand but he felt like there was a magnetic field between them that kept him at a distance.  
  
“Alright, yes, you’re tall. In fact, you’re _really_ tall. But you say it like it’s a bad thing and I for one, think it’s not.” He couldn’t fight the urge to look her up and down although he knew it would make her feel uncomfortable. “Besides, you’re so much more than just _really_ tall. You’re extraordinary.” His eyes were locked on hers as they stood in silence. Jaime noticed his heart rate had increased and tried to regain control over his body.  
  
There was something in the way she looked at him, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what he saw in those big blue eyes.  
  
“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “I wish I could be a little more… You know, _normal_. A little less...” Jaime finally tore his gaze away from her and breathed his tension out with a deep sigh as he sat back down on the bed.  
  
“A little less you? Come on Brienne, being normal is vastly overrated.” Brienne’s attention was drawn by her own reflection in the broken mirror and she seemed to completely zone out. Jaime wasn’t sure what she was thinking – he never was – but it seemed like she was lost in a pool of memories again.  
  
As he observed her, he could see her eyes going up and down, tracing every particle of her being. Her thoughts or memories or visions violently crashed over her like the ocean’s waves and just like that, she was drowning.  
  
Suddenly, she turned away from the mirror and sat down next to Jaime while she started taking off her shoes in a disturbingly desperate manner.  
  
“Calm down, you’ll rip them apart,” he warned her.  
  
“I want them off!” Brienne yelled, clawing at the strap, breathing heavily.  
  
“Okay, just calm down and take them off then.”  
  
“I’m trying!” The way she attacked her feet, scratching her ankles and pulling at the straps, gave Jaime chills. “Take them off!” Her voice was panicky and almost painful.  
  
“Alright,” Jaime said as he reached over to untie the straps. “It’s alright, I’ll do it.”  
  
Jaime could hear her panting above him but did not want to look up, afraid of her agonised expression. In her distress she had grabbed hold of Jaime’s arms so tightly that she buried her nails in his skin. Jaime felt very much like he was releasing a trapped animal. Her panic was so intense, so _real_ , that it was almost contagious. He tried to hurry untying the straps and when he managed to, Brienne kicked the shoes off and stormed out of the room to throw them in the bin.  
  
 _What the hell just happened?  
  
What did I do?_ Jaime had seen a lot, but never, in his lifetime, had he witnessed someone losing their mind over a pair of shoes. Brienne’s cheeks were red and her eyes were filled with tears. Jaime felt awful. He didn’t know exactly why, but he found himself apologising.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said as he handed her a glass of water. “Are you okay?”  
  
Brienne wiped her tears away and clenched her jaw, visibly fighting something within herself – _again_.  
  
“I’m fine. I’m sorry, you must think I’m one crazy bitch.” Jaime gave her a sad smile and shook his head.  
  
“You’re not crazy,” he reassured her.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
Jaime shrugged and said, “I just do.” When she had calmed down a little, she tried explaining, but every time she brought it up, her voice seemed to just stop working.  
  
“You don’t have to explain.”  
  
She gave him a tired but grateful smile. “Maybe one day?”  
  
“Yes,” he said with a firm nod, “Maybe one day.”  
  
Jaime made some coffee while Brienne got dressed. They sat at the dinner table next to the window, watching the people below, until Jaime’s phone rang again. Brienne looked over her shoulder to find it buzzing on the coffee table.  
  
“Who is it?” He asked. She leaned back to be able to read the name on the screen.  
  
“It’s Lyanna again,” Brienne answered, “Do you need to get that?”  
  
Jaime sighed and said, “No, I don’t. Sorry.” He immediately asked himself why he apologised. Brienne gave him a strange look and then lowered her eyes to stare into her coffee mug.  
  
“We should go,” she finally said. “It’s 10.30.” Jaime drank the last of his coffee and got up to get his shoes off the balcony. Meanwhile, Brienne had gone into her room to retrieve the blue hoodie she had borrowed from him.  
  
When Jaime walked back in, she held it out to him and said, “Sorry about the clothes. I should’ve given them back weeks ago. I meant to, I just... Forgot. Or something.” Jaime pushed her hand back with a smile.  
  
“Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” Brienne looked away from him and mumbled her thanks. “I’m keeping the joggers though,” Jaime added airily. “I’ll meet you outside. I wouldn’t want my disgusting shoes all over your rug.” When he closed the door behind him, he read the series of texts he had received from Lyanna and then texted her that he had friends over and couldn’t call her right now, but that he’d get back to her in an hour or so.  
  
It didn’t take long for Brienne to join him. She handed him a plastic bag with his clothes freshly washed.  
  
“When did you do that? You didn’t have to,” he said. Brienne shrugged.  
  
“Oh believe me, I did. The stench – _ugh_! I washed them when you were asleep. They’re not completely dry yet but I suppose it’s fine.” Jaime peeked into the bag and a familiar scent reached him that forced his lips into a smile.  
  
“Thank you,” he said. Brienne replied with a nod and locked the door behind her. As Jaime watched her, a strange feeling took hold of him. Something heavy and confusing.  
  
“Brienne...” he started, hesitantly. She didn’t look up from her bag as she was checking if she had everything she needed.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Did I… I mean, did we…” She looked at him with absent minded look in her eyes.  
  
“Did we what?” Brienne asked as she started down the corridor, but when she realised Jaime wasn’t following her, she stopped and turned around. “What? What is it?”  
  
Jaime walked up to her, but slowly and hesitantly. He could tell she was trying to read his face.  
  
Gods, how he hoped that she could.  
  
“Well, I mean, I can’t remember if we… Did we… You know?” Brienne’s eyes widened and then she quickly turned around and walked away.  
  
“Oh god, no! No, of course not,” she said as Jaime followed her to the stairwell.  
  
Jaime didn’t know how that made him feel but he found himself saying, “Oh, right, okay. Good. That’s good.” He almost had to run to keep up with Brienne. “I don’t mean good as in “ _good_ ”, but you know, just… Just good.” What the hell was he doing?  
  
“Oh no, I get it,” Brienne said, flying down the stairs in a manner that made Jaime feel like she was trying to get away from him. “Don’t worry, nothing happened.”  
  
He felt an overpowering urge to apologise. “It’s just that-”  
  
Brienne abruptly came to a halt and looked at him.  
  
“I know. You don’t have to explain. I understand.” Then she burst through the doors and walked outside.  
  
“You do?” Jaime asked, knowing she couldn’t hear him anymore.  
  
  
  
As was apparently their custom, they didn’t speak much on their way to the gym. When they got there, Jaime felt very out of place. He noticed that Brienne was the only woman there. They walked down a hallway when Brienne pointed through the window to the crash mats on the other side of the room.  
  
“That’s Sandor,” she said. “He’s my coach.” Jaime could hear Sandor’s voice roaring through the window and wondered if the ground trembled when he walked.  
  
“Dude,” he said quietly, “he’s a _beast_.” Brienne chuckled.  
  
“They call him _The Hound_.”  
  
“Huh, I’m sure they do. How very fitting.”  
  
“He’s a good guy though,” Brienne explained. “I’ve known him for a long time.” Suddenly someone behind them caught their attention, yelling Brienne’s name. It was a funny looking guy with broad shoulders, a wild face and uneven eyebrows. His mouth was hidden behind a ginger beard, but it wasn’t easy to ignore his voice.  
  
Jaime missed about half a minute of conversation because he was so distracted by the guy’s appearance.  
  
He didn’t start listening until the new guy slapped him on his back almost hard enough to make Jaime cough up his lungs, and said – _nay, screamed_ \- “Who’s this? Your lover? I’m Tormund.”  
  
Brienne got extremely red in the face and mumbled something that Jaime couldn’t hear over his own coughing. There was a water dispenser behind him and Jaime decided a drink would probably help, although he wasn’t quite sure if he was choking on air or on his own ego.  
  
Even though Brienne seemed very uncomfortable around this… _man_ … it was quite obvious that he was into her.  
  
Very, _very_ into her.  
  
Jaime almost squeezed his cup into a ball. The way that _Tormund_ guy looked at her was simply sickening to Jaime. He took an extra deep breath in and made sure to straighten his back when he walked back into the fire. Brienne gave him a worried look.  
  
“Are you alright?” Tormund turned around to Jaime and let out a boisterous laugh that thundered through the hallway.  
  
“Sorry dude,” he said with a heavy Scandinavian accent, “Didn’t mean to kill you, haha!” Jaime clenched his jaw and looked back at Brienne, who was trying to find her phone to look at the time.  
  
“Right, well, we have to go. It was good to see you, Tormund.”  
  
 _Good to see you? Really?_  
  
Tormund gave her half a hug and kissed her on the cheek before he pretended to slap Jaime on the back again, only to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder. It took everything inside Jaime to force his face into a smile instead of knocking his fucking teeth out.  
  
“Are you okay?” Brienne asked again. “You seem a little tense.”  
  
 _A little_?  
  
Jaime sighed deeply.  
  
“That Tormund seems like an _interesting_ guy.” He could have at least _tried_ to sound a _little_ more genuine. Brienne gave him a sideways glance as she walked to the door.  
  
“He’s Norwegian,” Brienne said, as though that would explain anything.  
  
“Hm, I’m sure he is. He’s _clearly_ _very_ fond of you.” The words tasted so bitter that Jaime almost spat them out.  
  
“You sound quite jealous.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.  
  
Jaime frowned at the realisation and said, “I do, don’t I?” Brienne chuckled and opened the door.  
  
“Bye Jaime.” He gave her a warm smile before she walked into the gym and the door closed behind her.  
  
He knew she couldn’t hear him, but still he said, “Goodbye Brienne.”


	7. Chapter 7

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that much to drink, but Jaime surely remembered _why_ that was. The headache was awful, the taste in his mouth was foul. Halfway up the long driveway to his house, he had to get out to move a couple of fallen branches off the muddy road. Luckily the house itself was fine, but the storm had pulled one of the trees out by its roots as it destroyed half of the shed next to the carport.  
  
The only thing greater than the damage to the shed was Jaime’s hangover.  
  
At first, he decided to start cleaning it up now, so that he would be able to start repairing the shed tomorrow, but as soon as he bent over to pull the branches aside, he felt dizzy and beyond ready to throw up. The shed would have to wait. Sadly, because, well…  
  
He could really use the distraction.  
  
The day went by slower than ever. Jaime witnessed the minutes crawl past and tried to keep himself busy, but it was no use. His mind – as it had been doing for weeks now – kept insisting on wandering of to thoughts of Brienne. He didn’t remember much of the previous night. He remembered seeing her in the Oathkeeper’s Inn, but had no clue how long she stayed with him before they went to her house. He couldn’t even recall why she showed up in the first place, or what made her decide to bring him home.  
  
Jaime looked through his messages and buried his face in his hands as he realised just how embarrassing he’d behaved.  
  
“Well done, idiot,” he mumbled to himself. His last couple of text messages were so desperate that he deleted them just so he’d never have to see them ever again.  
  
He’d made a right fool of himself. And yet, she came to find him and even brought him home with her. She’d taken care of him. Jaime wandered through the house aimlessly, trying to remember what had happened, but his memory was a cloudy, blurry mess and there were a couple of very strong guards at the gate to the night before.  
  
All he could find in the foggy maze of his mind were visions of them walking outside in the rain, fragments of Brienne’s flushed face in the bathroom, helping him undress.  
  
Snippets of the two of them in the kitchen.  
  
Her face above him as he lay down on her sofa.  
  
He was haunted by a strange feeling, like there was something he had forgotten, but desperately needed to remember. It reminded him of the feeling when you go into a different room to find something, but when you enter, you can’t remember what you were looking for. Then, when you give up and walk away, it suddenly comes back to you.  
  
Only this time, it didn’t.  
  
  
  
Tormund happily waved at her from the other side of the gym as Brienne placed her foot on a bench to tie her shoelaces. She turned her head to roll her eyes before she waved back at him.  
  
“So that’s the guy, huh?” Sandor said from behind her.  
  
“What, Tormund?” They both looked at Tormund as he slammed his wrestling partner down on the mat and let out a beastly roar of victory.  
  
“No, not him. I’m talking about mister Goldilocks. I saw the two of you together earlier.” Brienne huffed and put on her boxing gloves, trying to ignore him, but Sandor continued, “I’m glad you listened. For once.” Brienne frowned at him.  
  
“Listened to what?” she asked as she climbed into the ring.  
  
“My advice. I told you to give him a chance.” Brienne stumbled forward and landed on her knees.  
  
As she got up, she argued, “Who says I’m...” but when she saw Sandor’s face, she immediately gave up. “Fine... Well, I’m trying to.”  
  
“Good. It’s about time you put yourself out there again. It’s been long enough. We’re not _all_ bad, you know.” Brienne replied with a sound that could have been a sign of agreement as well as disagreement. She didn’t even know which one it was.  
  
Meanwhile, Sandor continued, “You’ve got to let someone prove you wrong. Let someone in again, to move on.” Brienne’s cheeks flushed as she turned away from him.  
  
“It’s not that simple,” she said.  
  
“Of course it’s not that bloody fucking simple,” Sandor growled. “But it’s been over a year now. There comes a point where you have to burn the ropes that are holding you back. Knock down that door. Or else you’ll hide behind it forever, like a fucking coward.”  
  
“I’m not hiding from anyone. And I’m not a fucking coward.”  
  
“Then stop acting like one. Come on, Brienne, you-” She didn’t feel like letting him finish.  
  
“What is this, boxing practice or therapy?” Sandor swallowed his words and sighed before the scarred skin on the right side of his face tightened into his signature half-smile.  
  
“Both,” he said, punching her in the shoulder. “Always has been. Come on, show me those high kicks. And you better hope you’re not as weak as you look.” Brienne punched him back and laughed through the discomfort of Tormund’s stare from across the gym.  
  
It had been weeks since she felt like she did well on her training. She felt some kind of passion that had long been lost. Even Sandor couldn’t think of anything to complain about. So instead, he decided to continue his therapy session as he untied the wraps around Brienne’s hands.  
  
“Have you told him yet?” Brienne didn’t look up from her hands.  
  
“Told him what?”  
  
“Brienne...” She sighed.  
  
“No. It’s none of his business. Besides, I’m fine now. No issues here.” Sandor let out a burst of laughter that sounded more like a bark than anything else.  
  
“Give me a fucking break,” he said. “You’re not fine. I know you. You haven’t been the same since it happened.” Brienne felt a flash of anger inside her chest.  
  
“Well of course I’m not the fucking same. He took something from me when…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her breath was gone, her throat tightened and her tongue went numb. She could see Sandor’s face fall.  
  
“It’s just that, you know… Don’t let your life go to waste. Don’t you think he needs to know to understand? That he deserves to-” Brienne suddenly turned away from him, climbed through the ropes, jumped down and swung her bag over her shoulder.  
  
“I think we’re done here,” she said as she looked up at him. “I’ll see you on Monday.”  
  
Normally, he wouldn’t just let her go like that, and she expected him to yell something after her, but he didn’t. When she reached the dressing room and turned around, he just stared at her with a familiar sadness on his face, until the door closed between them.  
  
  
  
When Monday came, Jaime woke up extremely early due to a restlessness in his chest. There was something he wasn’t used to feeling on Monday mornings; a strange mixture of nervousness and excitement. He had decided over the weekend that he wanted to make it up to Brienne, to thank her and apologise and to show her that he wasn’t some kind of weak pathetic guy that drinks away his problems.  
  
This in itself wasn’t any reason to be nervous, it was Brienne who made him nervous.  
  
All he needed, was for her to agree to go on a date with him, that’s all. How hard could that be?  
  
On his way to work, he went over a dozen scenarios in his mind, but no matter what he came up with, she always ended up completely freaked out and the rift between them seemed to increase with every great idea he had. All he knew, was that pretending he didn’t care hadn’t worked out for him, and it wouldn’t.  
  
He’d been lying to himself and even though he still didn’t know or understand why, he felt something for Brienne.  
  
Something he hadn’t felt with anyone else.  
  
Something _different_.  
  
A relentless urge to be close to her, an overpowering need to protect her and an inevitable desire to make her smile.  
  
After he had listened to Brienne’s voicemail for the 11th time, he had made himself delete it. It was only a few words long, she sounded terribly annoyed and it reminded him of what an idiot he had been.  
  
Still, hearing her voice made him smile.  
  
Even if she cursed.  
  
Even when she mumbled.  
  
Even though she was angry.  
  
And so, he decided to try and make it work and accept every hurdle he would have to face, knowing there would be plenty of hurdles to face. Starting by asking her out. And he probably shouldn’t wait too long, or else that Norwegian caveman would beat him to it. Just the thought of his thundering laughter and his pearly white teeth shining through that enormously wild ginger beard, made Jaime clench his fist and want to drive it through a wall in one clean punch.  
  
Jaime’s morning schedule was packed to the rim with meetings and the cup that was his attention span had very quickly overflowed. There simply wasn’t any room for work. Every time he blinked, he saw her, and with every breath he took, he heard her.  
  
He saw her by the fire, he saw her in the rain.  
  
Walking across the car park in the wind, yelling at him in the bathroom, staring at him in the kitchen.  
  
He saw her in the field on the bonnet of her car, well…  
  
She was everywhere, and all things.  
  
In between meetings, he had texted her if she wanted to meet up for lunch and almost an hour and a half later, she finally replied, asking him if he thought he could make it through without throwing up. Jaime checked the message as soon as it came in and he could feel one of his female colleagues – someone Jaime considered to be his friend - judging him from across the table as he read the text and chuckled. He tried to hide it with a fake cough, but she wasn’t buying it.  
  
“Who’s the lucky girl?” she asked, as they walked from one meeting to the next.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaime answered, but he couldn’t suppress a treasonous smile. The right side of the woman’s mouth curled upward.  
  
“Fine,” she said, “Keep your secrets. You know I’ll find out sooner or later.” Jaime shook his head as he followed her into the conference room.  
  
“I know you will. I just don’t want the entire office to know about it.” She clutched her chest with an enormous sense of drama and gasped incredulously as they sat down.  
  
“Excuse _you_ , mister Lannister, what are you trying to say?” Jaime smiled at her.  
  
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… I don’t think she wants people to know.” The woman’s eyes widened and she flicked her long curls over her shoulder, leaning towards him, hungry for information.  
  
“She works _here_?” Her eyes darted around the room. Thankfully, someone got up and started the meeting before he could say anything. Jaime made sure to hide his phone under the table when he replied to Brienne.  
  
She was late. Jaime waited for 10 minutes before deciding to text her, but she didn’t reply. Another five minutes passed before he went to look for her.  
  
Something didn’t feel right.  
  
He walked past the break room on the third floor, but she wasn’t there. The corridor to Brienne’s office was quiet. He peeked into the room, but her desk was empty. Jaime opened the chat history on his phone to see if maybe he had misinterpreted her message, and wasn’t planning on meeting him at all.  
  
 _I’ll be there_.  
  
Well, there was no mistaking that, was there? He’d tried calling her, but when the call went to voicemail, he put his phone away and decided to go back to work, figuring she’d probably changed her mind but didn’t know how to tell him.  
  
 _Yeah, that sounds like her,_ he thought as he walked into the restroom on his way to the elevator.  
  
When he exited the cubicle to wash his hands, Brienne’s boss, Roose Bolton, entered the room, greeting him with a confident nod. There was something incredibly creepy about him, although Jaime couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. He watched Roose in the mirror, straightening his tie and examining what appeared to be some kind of scratch on his left cheek.  
  
Roose must have felt Jaime’s stare, because he looked up at him and said, “These damn paper cuts huh?” He didn’t wait for a response, but walked out of the restroom without saying another word. Jaime frowned at his own reflection before he followed him outside.  
 _That was no paper cut_ , he thought as he watched Roose disappear around the corner. Jaime turned around to face the elevators, but was suddenly overcome by an incredibly ominous feeling.  
  
  
  
Before he realised what he was doing, he found himself hurrying down the corridor, opening and closing every single door. He’d almost reached the end when he looked through a narrow glass window in the door to a dark storage room.  
  
Just when he was about to turn around, he saw her, sitting on the floor in the dark, with her arms wrapped around her knees and her head down. He took a deep breath in before he slowly opened the door.  
  
“Brienne?” he asked quietly as he entered the room. “What are you doing?” She looked up at him and rubbed her hands over her face.  
  
“I- I just,“ she stammered. “I needed some time.” Jaime sat down opposite her and squinted his eyes, trying to read her face.  
  
“Some time for what?” he asked. “Were you crying?” Brienne cleared her throat and shook her head.  
  
“No… I’m fine. You shouldn’t be here.”  
  
He ignored the last part of what she said. “You don’t _look_ fine. Talk to me, please… What happened?”  
  
“Nothing. Jaime, I’m fine, honestly. You should go. I just needed some time to myself.”  
  
As Jaime’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he was certain she had been crying.  
  
And that she was lying.  
  
“It’s Bolton, isn’t it?” Their eyes met and Brienne took another shaky breath.  
  
She stared at him for a long moment before she whispered, “Yes.”  
  
Something seemed to explode within Jaime, because he jumped to his feet, hissing, “I’m going to kill that fucking-”, but Brienne grabbed him by the wrist, feeling the tension in his arm, and said, “Don’t… He didn’t… Nothing happened.”  
  
“If nothing happened, then why are you here, in the dark, _crying_?” Jaime said angrily. Brienne sighed, realising he wouldn’t just let this go.  
  
“Please, just… Sit down.” She let go of his arm as she felt his muscles relax under her touch. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but eventually sat down next to her.  
  
“Did he hurt you?” Jaime asked, his voice trembling with anger. She didn’t know how to respond.  
  
“He tried to,” she decided to say, swiftly avoiding the truth. “But I didn’t let him. I think I might have hit him.”  
  
Jaime huffed and said, “I think you’re right.”  
  
She frowned at him and changed the subject. “How did you know I was here?”  
  
“I didn’t. I came looking for you after I saw Bolton with a big fat scratch on his face.”  
  
Brienne averted her eyes, and asked, “How did you know that was me?”  
  
Jaime remained silent for a while, running his fingers through his golden hair, until he admitted, “I don’t know. I just did. Are you sure he didn’t touch you?” Brienne tried to remember if _that_ was what she’d said.  
  
“It’s no big deal, I just overreacted,” she tried. She could sense Jaime weighing her words, trying to decide whether or not he believed them.  
  
“Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time this has happened?” Brienne got to her feet and looked down at him.  
  
“Maybe I gave him the wrong impression, I don’t know. Either way, I’m sure it’s over now. I’m sorry I missed our lunch.” Jaime stood up and looked deep into her eyes, as if he tried to find a specific part of her to talk to.  
  
“You can’t just let this go, Brienne. It’s not okay.” She turned away from him and walked to the door.  
  
“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. It won’t lead to anything.” Brienne reached for the door handle, but Jaime placed his hand over hers and Brienne froze.  
  
“So, what, you’re just going to wait around until he tries something else? Have you ever run away from a fight?” Her gaze slowly moved to meet his.  
  
“Well, it’s not _your_ fight, is it?”  
  
As they walked down the corridor, Jaime said, “I will _make_ it my fight if this ever happens again. Promise me you’ll tell me if it does.” Brienne scoffed and rolled her eyes, but Jaime grabbed her arm and made her look at him.  
  
“Promise me.” She sighed violently.  
  
“Alright, I promise.” Jaime nodded and let go of her arm as they reached Brienne’s office.  
  
“Will I see you tomorrow, for our lunch date?”  
  
“Sure,” she said as she walked inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
  
  
She lied.  
  
Jaime didn’t see her the next day, or the day after that.  
  
He’d gone to see Renly, who told him that she’d called in sick. He tried calling her, but she never answered. It wasn’t until Wednesday evening that she finally replied to his texts, saying she was home with the flu. Jaime didn’t believe her, but he felt rather powerless. He made her promise that she was okay and after she did, he decided it was probably best to give her the space she _thought_ she needed.  
  
On Friday evening, after work, he drove to her house and rang her doorbell, but of course, she didn’t answer. He walked around the building and stood beneath her window for minutes, until he felt the people around him starting to stare at him.  
  
About 15 minutes later, Jaime opened the door to the gym where Brienne had taken him the week before. He watched Sandor through the window, they way he had done with Brienne, and wondered if this was a good idea. When he finally entered the room and approached him, Sandor looked at him over his shoulder.  
  
“Well, well… If it isn’t mister Goldilocks.” Jaime looked behind him, uncertain if he was talking about him or some 12 year old girl with long blonde hair.  
  
“Excuse me?” Jaime asked. The Hound shook his head with a strange smile on his face.  
  
“Never mind. You must be Brienne’s _friend_.” The emphasis he placed on the word “friend” gave Jaime an odd and indefinable feeling.  
  
“I am. Have you seen her lately?” The Hound didn’t look up from reorganising a crate of hand wraps and focus mitts.  
  
“Define ‘lately’,” he grunted.  
  
“Sometime this week?” Sandor gave him a sideways glance, his brown eyes glistening in the cold light of the gym.  
  
“No,” he answered, before turning away from him again. As Jaime waited for him to say something else, or ask him what he wanted from him, the silence between them grew cold and uncomfortable.  
  
“I’m worried about her,” Jaime said eventually. Sandor grunted as he got up off his knees.  
  
Towering over him, he asked, “And why is that?”  
  
“I think she’s having trouble with her boss.” Sandor narrowed his eyes and studied Jaime’s face.  
  
“What kind of trouble?”  
  
“Well, I think he’s… Intimidating her. But she doesn’t want to talk about it with me.” Sandor sighed and walked over to the wall to put the equipment away, leaving Jaime to wonder if this was the end of their conversation, but after a few seconds, Sandor turned around and approached him again.  
  
“If that’s true… Well, it’s not my place to tell you that Brienne is a… _complicated_ … woman, but she is. She’s been through a lot and she’s still recovering. Don’t let her strength and distant behaviour fool you. And don’t make her fight this battle alone. You _must_ help her.”  
  
“Well, I’m trying to,” Jaime said desperately, “But she won’t let me.”  
  
“Listen Goldilocks,” Sandor growled as took a few enormous steps towards him, pointing a finger at Jaime’s face like a weapon. “Don’t you give up on her. Anything that’s worth having, is worth fighting for. Remember that.” He looked at him for a few long seconds and then walked away, threatening a couple of teens who were fooling around rather than training.  
  
“I will,” Jaime mumbled.  
  
  
  
That night, Jaime lay in bed twisting and turning, unable to fall asleep.  
  
At 3 am he gave up and went into the living room where he sat down with a glass of wine, staring into the flames that danced through the fireplace, until his eyelids grew tired and heavy and started to droop.  
  
There she was. Bright blue eyes framed by thick blonde eyelashes, a smile that could light up the entire house and pale, freckled skin with rosy cheeks.  
  
“I dreamed of you,” he heard himself say. What a strange dream. Something about it seemed familiar to him.  
  
“I don’t think you were dreaming,” she said, her voice echoing through his mind.  
  
The dream went dark, but the echo continued.  
  
 _I don’t think you were dreaming.  
  
_ There was a warmth inside him, a sweet taste in his mouth.  
  
Jaime’s eyes flew open as he sat up, his heart racing. He felt a strange, lingering burn on his lips and suddenly he knew.  
  
No, he _remembered_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If reading about sexual violence is triggering for you, you might want to skip this one.

The best way to describe what Jaime felt when he first saw Brienne was… confused. They met each other in the car park – not entirely by accident of course. A strong wave of relief and excitement tumbled through Jaime’s chest when he recognised her car. He blinked a couple of times when she slammed the door shut behind her.  
  
“Brienne,” he said, and it was almost a question. Almost as if he didn’t believe it was her. “Wow, you look… _Different_.” Brienne raised her slender fingers up to her face and combed through her hair to where it ended at the nape of her neck. Her eyes drifted to an undetermined spot on the ground between them.  
  
“I know,” she replied quietly. Jaime had always liked the way she wore her pale blonde hair; brushing her shoulders in lazy waves, but this new look was surprisingly thrilling to him. Jaime cleared his throat as Brienne walked around the car to meet him. He wasn’t sure if it was just the way her new haircut revealed her astonishingly long neck, or the orange morning light kissing her skin, or perhaps it was even something his eyes couldn’t see. Whatever it was, it made it hard for Jaime to tear his gaze away from her.  
  
“I like it,” he said. “It suits you very well.” Brienne smiled at him over her shoulder. As they walked towards the office, Jaime’s mind overflowed with questions.  
  
He didn’t realise he was muttering one thing or another, until she asked, “What?”  
  
“It’s good to see you again. I hope you’re well?” He didn’t mean it as a question, but it sounded like one all the same.  
  
“I am, thank you...” The silence between them was thick and heavy as they made their way to the elevators. Was it just him or was everyone staring at them? “And thank you for your messages.” Jaime shifted his weight awkwardly.  
  
“Oh, you got those...” He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice.  
  
“Hm, I did,” she said, stepping into the elevator. “All seventeen of them.”  
  
“ _Seventeen_?” Jaime said, equally incredulous and embarrassed.  
  
Brienne chuckled and said, “I don’t know, I didn’t count them. But there were many.”  
  
“Yeah, listen, about that… I didn’t mean to, but then I wanted to apologise and then I just kept adding more messages, you know.”  
  
Brienne refused to look at him. Instead, she watched the number in neon red change above the elevator door.  
  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
“Sorry.” Jaime glanced over at her from the side, saw her still staring at the number. Without saying a word, he was begging her to look at him, to let their eyes meet, lock their gazes for just a second - but she didn’t.  
  
“Me too,” Brienne replied as she walked out. What the hell was he supposed to say now? The doors were already sliding shut and he wanted to call after her, but for some unknown reason, he didn’t.  
  
  
Not long after that, Jaime walked into the break room on the ninth floor to get some coffee, cursing himself for letting her walk away like that. For the way everything he had wanted to say had suddenly evaporated into thin air, until all he could come up with was a mere, miserable, _pathetic_ , ‘sorry’.  
  
“How’s the girlfriend?” a high voice rang behind him. Jaime stepped aside and rolled his eyes, stirring his coffee with a frown so deep it almost hurt.  
  
“Ugh, Maggie, please… Not today,” he protested.  
  
“That bad huh,” she said airily, ignoring his warning. “Yeah, I thought I saw you looking like _shit_ when you entered the building with whatshername, Leanne.”  
  
“ _Brienne_ ,” Jaime corrected.  
  
“Yeah, whatever. So, what happened, did she break up with you or something?” Jaime looked up from his coffee, confused.  
  
“Who have you been talking to?” he asked. Maggie took her coffee from the machine and turned around to face him, her long curls bouncing around her shoulders.  
  
“About what?”  
  
“About Brienne?” As soon as he said the words Jaime feared he had betrayed himself. If his words hadn’t, the look on his face certainly had.  
  
“Oh. My. God,” Maggie said as she put her coffee down and moved closer. “ _She’s_ the girlfriend? Well, _fuck_!” Jaime moved towards the door to check if anyone could be listening in on their conversation.  
  
“Will you quiet down,” he hissed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”  
  
“So she _did_ break up with you? Gods, Jaime, I had no idea.”  
  
Jaime shook his head. “It’s nothing like that. We were never together.”  
  
Maggie raised her eyebrows at him. “Hmm.. If that’s your story. You might want to tell your face that, because boy, you’re an open book if I’ve ever seen one.”  
  
Jaime rubbed his hand over his face and let out a desperate sigh. “I know… It’s a fucking mess.” Maggie leaned back against the table and bit her lip. Her silence made Jaime suspicious. “What? What is it?”  
  
“You _do_ know there are rumours going around about her, right?” A sudden tightness rose in his chest as he remembered what had happened a few weeks before, in the very same room. She didn’t wait for him to reply out loud. “So you _don’t_ know, then. Wow, you must be the only one in the entire office.”  
  
“I don’t care about rumours,” he said slightly annoyed.  
  
Maggie took her briefcase from the counter and walked to the door. “I’m sure you don’t,” she replied. “Good for you. Anyway,” she added when she turned around, “I’m sure they’re not true. I mean honestly, who would want to kiss that creep, Roose Bolton?”

  
Jaime stood nailed to the ground, but his grip around the disposable coffee cup tightened enough to spill the hot contents over the edge. He cursed when he dropped it and it crashed to the ground with a splash.  
  
 _What the hell is going on_ _with me_ _?_ he asked himself as he started cleaning up the mess. People walking past in their suits gave him multiple indignant looks, but Jaime did not notice. He could barely notice anything outside of his own mind.  
  
The rest of the day he spent thinking about Brienne and what Maggie had said. He felt tormented by the same damn vision he’d been having for days, one that kept on invading his brain with seemingly every breath he took, like a video on repeat. Only seconds long, it was shaky as well as blurry, but it was enough to drive him insane. Jaime tried desperately to fight the image of his lips on hers, her cheek against his, her warm skin smooth as silk under his fingertips. He had spent the weekend trying to decide if it was just a feverish dream, or an actual memory. The way the images stuck with him had convinced him it had really happened.  
  
And now, he simply could not let go.  
  
When he first realised what he’d done, he wanted to throw himself off the nearest bridge. Not only had he been more drunk than he had been in years, he’d let her take him into her home and then he went and kissed her. He _kissed_ her, knowing she could barely stand to let him touch her. But did he care? No, his selfish heart and greedy cock had somehow convinced him to make their lips collide into a kiss that would haunt him for the rest of his days. Why? Because he was absolutely certain that he had blown every chance he might have had with her.  
  
Thanks to his moment of weakness and idiocy, he was now stuck spending triple the amount of time he normally needed to finish his presentation.  
His blood would freeze in his veins as the image of Brienne’s closed eyes leaning into their kiss made space for a vile picture of Bolton’s greedy hands on her skin; his cold eyes boring into hers before pressing his revolting lips against her mouth.  
  
How was he supposed to deal with this? What the fuck was happening to him?  
  
  
There was an ache in Brienne’s chest as well as her mind. All week long she’d been thinking about Jaime.  
  
A dozen times, she had dialled his number, but every time she put her phone down before the first ring.  
  
A hundred times, she’d tried texting him, but every time she deleted her words like she deleted her courage.  
  
A thousand times, she thought of how she should have behaved when he came to find her in that storage room, but it never changed the truth.  
  
A million times, she thought of things to say. She had the words, they were right there, and there were _many_ , so many words that she didn’t know where one ended and the next began. Somehow, in the process of getting all tangled up, they had lost all meaning.  
  
When she closed her eyes, she could picture some sort of alternate universe. One in which she was brave again, where she told him everything and he would listen and understand. The picture was so clear, so vivid, so _real_ , that she could almost touch it. Almost close enough to breathe it in and savour its sweet taste on her tongue. But it was, and perhaps always would be, just that: a picture in her mind. Something she’d made up because it was easier to hide in what could have been than to face reality. Some sort of escapism. _Pathetic_.  
  
She hadn’t left the house all week, because she had called in sick. The only person she’d spoken to, was Sandor. On Friday evening, she gathered the courage to tell him she needed some time off, and that she wanted to withdraw from the competition for the rest of the season. It was the strangest thing; he hadn’t even argued with her. There was no angry barking , he made no growling threats . A few times, she even checked her phone to see if maybe they’d lost the connection, but they hadn’t. He seemed to truly understand and suggested that she’d take the week off and then keep on training twice a week, just to make sure she’d stay in shape until she was ready to compete again.  
  
Before they hung up, Sandor said, “I think you’re doing the right thing, Brienne. Your father would’ve been proud. ” Brienne needed about 20 minutes to process the sheer weirdness of their conversation. Sandor had stood by Brienne through a thousand shades of darkness. He knew her better than anyone and he’d always been _sort of_ understanding. But today, there was something else going on. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something.  
  
On Saturday she finally went outside . She wandered through town for an hour or so, before she found herself at her local hairdresser, staring at herself in the window. The girl who normally cut her hair wasn’t in, but Brienne needed this done _right now_ , so instead she approached one of the other girls, named Gilly.  
  
When Brienne sat down and told her, “Just take it all off,” the girl looked at her with wide eyes.  
  
“Are you sure? But you have such beautiful hair,” she tried, running her fingers down the ends of her hair.

Brienne shuddered. “I don’t care. I want it gone.” She watched Gilly nodding slowly in the mirror.  
  
Eventually she looked up to meet Brienne’s eyes and asked, “So you are definitely sure then?”  
  
“Trust me, I’m sure.” Gilly shrugged and started cutting.  
  
A little later, as Brienne’s white blonde locks swirled down in playful strings, GIlly asked, “Time for something new?” Brienne looked at her in the mirror, confused. “The hair, I mean. Time for a change?” Brienne’s wet hair slid between the girl’s fingers before the scissors snapped.  
  
“Something like that,” she said. Gilly nodded, visibly disappointed at her failed attempt to start a conversation. As Brienne watched her hair fall down into her lap, she shuddered again, and a chill went through her body, raising the hairs on her arms.  
“Sorry,” she said to Gilly, who looked up from Brienne’s trembling shoulders. Brienne could almost read the thoughts off her face, even though she tried her best to sell a convincing smile.  
  
Brienne made sure to keep looking at herself in the mirror, or else her mind tricked her into thinking she was back in that room again, with Bolton’s breath against her ear and his nose in her hair. She could almost feel the pressure of his one hand roughly roaming across her chest from behind while he combed through her silvery hair with the other. She remembered how he drew a sharp breath in through his nose and then sighed deeply. Brienne clenched her jaw at the memory and fought against the tears that marched their way up to her eyes. Eventually, she lost and her eyes fell shut.  
  
Gilly’s movements slowed down and Brienne felt how she let go of her hair and walked away from her, but she wasn’t ready to open her eyes. She wanted to refuse her tears the triumph of getting to roll down her cheeks. When Gilly gently touched her arm, Brienne finally opened her eyes to meet a sad smile and a glass of water.  
  
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, deliberately trying to block the view from one of the other customers. Brienne took a deep breath in, rubbed the tears from her eyes and nodded as she took the glass from her.  
  
“Thank you."  
  
  
Meeting Jaime on Monday hadn’t exactly gone the way she had hoped. She wasn’t sure if she was the one who was being weird or that, for once, it was him. His strange behaviour had thrown her off so much, that everything she had prepared to say, was gone with the wind. When she walked into the restroom after sort-of-saying-goodbye to Jaime in the morning, she stared at herself for a long time. Her eyes were full of disappointment, and so was her heart. She had hoped to feel liberated, freed from her monsters, after she cut off her hair.  
  
Maybe she was stupid, for believing that when her silvery blonde locks fell to the floor, so would her struggles, her anxiety, her anger, her memories. But no. Sadly they all seemed rooted deep inside her mind and her chest, in dark crevices and recesses where no one knife or pair of scissors would ever be able to reach. Maybe she would do better to accept that these demons had become part of her, and she would take them to her grave. Brienne sighed deeply, splashed some cold water in her face, and decided that she should focus on work and avoiding Roose Bolton.  
  
Focussing on work hard proven to be a lot more difficult than avoiding Roose. One time, on Tuesday, right before lunch, he caught her walking from the copy room to her office. It took all of her strength to fight the urge to turn around and run away, to ignore the way his eyes bored into her flesh. After that she made sure to stay in the office among her colleagues, even during lunch break. She cursed herself for being afraid.  
  
 _This is no way to live my life_ , she thought bitterly, _no way to do my job. I can’t keep running from him_.  
  
Brienne was so used to getting strange looks, that she didn’t even notice everyone staring at her. Renly was the only one who mentioned her new look. He seemed to like it, which shouldn’t have made Brienne feel any better, but it did.  
The week dragged by without a word from Jaime, which seemed to make focussing on work practically impossible.  
  
Normally, he would have sent her a text or an email, but this week, there was nothing. She was stuck in a great, heavy cloud of nothing. Countless times she’d started writing him an email, but she never actually sent it. There was a restlessness inside her – a highly aggressive poison that ate away at her attention. She felt like the only antidote would be to hear from Jaime.  
  
On Wednesday, she even left the safe harbour of her office to visit him on the ninth floor. Through the blinds she saw him, leaning against the window that overlooked the car park. He threw his head back with laughter as a vaguely familiar woman with beautiful long hair waved her arms to add some extra flavour to her story. He seemed happy. Brienne couldn’t remember seeing him laugh like that. All she could do, was turn around and walk away.  
  
 _Let him be happy,_ she thought, _I want him to be happy_.  
  
As she went back to work she wondered how wanting someone to be happy could feel so extremely alienating.  
  
  
On Friday afternoon she still hadn’t heard from him and she tried to accept that this was probably his way of showing that whatever they had, was gone now. Even though she couldn’t blame him for giving up on her, she couldn’t stop thinking about him, wishing she could just explain everything.  
  
She couldn’t stop hearing Sandor’s voice in her mind, telling her to give him a chance. Or Jaime, offering to be her friend, if she could let him.  
  
Telling her she was _extraordinary_.  
  
 _Kissing_ _her_. _Damn him_.  
  
She wondered how different things might have been, if he had only remembered kissing her that evening.  
  
If he hadn’t been so drunk.  
  
If she hadn’t lied to him when he asked her if anything had happened between them.  
  
If only she had told him.  
  
“ _I’m not a fucking coward_ ”, she remembered saying to Sandor.  
  
“ _Then stop acting like one_.” Brienne stared at her computer for a long while before opening Jaime’s timetable. He had a meeting from 4 to 5.30.  
  
 _I’ll wait for him_ , she decided. _I_ _need to tell him.  
_  
  
It was just past 4.30 when Brienne went to return a flip chart she had borrowed from someone down the hall. As always on Fridays, most of her colleagues had already gone home as if they had a life to get to. The corridor was quiet with most of the lights out and the doors closed. When she passed Bolton’s office, she slowed down to make sure he was gone. The lights were on, but he wasn’t there and neither was his bag or his coat.  
  
Brienne breathed the tension out, fighting the urge to mumble to herself. Somewhere, someone must have thought they had the floor to themselves, because she could hear the music from the radio from at least 3 rooms ahead. She carried the flip chart into the office and almost tripped over the stand when she heard the door close behind her. She was almost too afraid to turn around, but she really didn’t need to, to know who it was.  
  
“I like your hair.” His voice was cold and slick, slippery like an eel. It raised the hairs on Brienne’s arms. “It’s very… _daring_ , I’d say.” Brienne could hardly hear him turn the lock on the door over the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest.  
  
She tried not to gasp for air and wanted to turn around, but her body had completely shut down. Heavy chains of fear were shackled around her ankles, holding her in place. Her heart was beating so fast that she was now panting. When she heard him approaching her, the chains that were holding her down suddenly snapped and she whirled around to face him. He had closed in on her not unlike a lion sneaking up on his prey. Only Roose Bolton wasn’t anything like a lion. He was a snake, and not even that.  
  
“What are you doing here?” she asked, although her voice seemed to belong to someone else. Roose let his hand slide over the edge of the desk as he moved closer.  
  
“Hmm,” he hummed, “I had to see you.” Brienne backed away from him until she bumped into the flip chart and realised he had cornered her.  
  
“I think you should leave, sir,” she warned him. His face twisted into a wicked smile.  
  
“Oh I don’t think so. Listen, I hope you didn’t tell anyone about our little game.” Brienne made the mistake of stepping to the side. Roose moved forward and placed his left hand against the wall next to her face, so that she was stuck between him, the wall, the window and flip chart.  
  
Even though he was a little shorter than Brienne, he still loomed over her, seemingly growing taller with every hungry breath he took. His cold blue eyes grazed over every piece of her skin, down her neck to her chest. Brienne tried to turn her face away from him, saying “I don’t want to play any games, please just...” But he shut her up when he placed his right hand on her cheek.  
  
“Ssshh, there's no need to pretend,” he said. “I know you want this just as much as I do.” She felt a sudden urge to throw up and part of her wished she actually could, to make it stop.  
  
“I assure you, I don’t want-” His hand moved over her mouth and the breath caught in her throat. Roose moved even closer until his nose almost touched her ear.  
  
“You know, it wasn’t very nice of you to scratch me the other day,” he whispered as his hand slid down her throat. His hands were warm and sweaty and Brienne felt them burn on her skin the way the image of him would be burned into her memory.  
 _  
Again_.  
  
“But I forgive you,” he continued. “God knows I like a little struggle.” He started unbuttoning her shirt and Brienne reached for his hand to make him stop, but he swiftly turned her around so she faced the wall and held her hands crossed at the wrists.  
  
Brienne felt like she would collapse any moment, but Roose held her firmly in place, his one hand still clawing at her shirt, trying to open it. He grunted against her temple as his hand found its way into her shirt and squeezed her delicate flesh.  
  
“Stop,” she cried, but only half a loud as she meant to. “Get off me.” Roose started biting her neck and then turned her around again to kiss her. She could feel his erection push against her hip as he shoved his tongue down her throat, groaning into her mouth.  
  
 _Fight him_ , she told herself. _You have to fight him_. _Don’t let him_ _win_. Brienne closed her eyes and turned her head away from him as he attacked her throat with hungry lips.  
  
With her eyes closed, she could see Sandor’s face.  
  
 _Burn the ropes,_ _knock_ _down the door.  
  
I’m not a fucking coward_.  
  
Suddenly, Brienne thrust her hips forward with every ounce of strength she could find, pushing Roose back and then threw her head forward to smash against his nose. Roose stumbled backwards, reaching for his face, mumbling something angry and indistinguishable.  
  
He gave her another wicked smile, uncovering his bloody face.  
  
“Oh, she’s a fighter,” he growled. “Lovely.” Brienne tried to leave the room but he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back until she was close enough to whisper, “I wouldn’t go telling anyone about this if I were you. Things could get really ugly for you. Remember that.”  
  
He finally let go and Brienne stumbled to the door when he called after her, “I look forward to next time.”  
  
  
Brienne hurried to the restroom and locked herself in one of the cubicles, where she let herself collapse onto the floor. Her hands were shaking so much that she had trouble unlocking her phone.  
  
 _Who do I call? What do I do?_  
  
She scrolled to Sandor’s number and let her thumb hover over the call button for a few seconds, until she scrolled back up to Jaime.  
  
The phone rang twice, three times before she remembered that he was in the middle of a meeting. Then she dropped her phone in her lap, only to pick it back up after a few seconds and try again.  
  
Again, she hung up before he could answer.  
  
 _Please, come_ , she thought.  
  
She could barely see the screen through her tears when she texted him.  
  
 _I need you.  
  
Please._  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Jaime felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Who would be calling him at this time? After three times, the buzzing stopped. He took the device from his pocket and the screen lit up, announcing he had one missed call from Brienne. Trying not to let that distract him, he apologised to everyone in the room and put his phone on silent mode before laying it screen up on the table in front of him.  
  
“So, as I was saying,” he said, resuming his presentation, “Compared to last year’s statistics it’s evident that we have...” The screen came to life again. _Brienne_. “That we have,” he repeated, but his voice trailed off into the great void.  
  
Someone across the room impatiently cleared his throat. “Yes, sorry, that we have significantly improved our marketing strategy.” Jaime could feel droplets of sweat pressing on his pores from inside his skin and moved his phone from the table to the chair.  
  
Fuck, where did all his words go? He saw Maggie walking past, clearly on her way out, smiling at him and giving him a thumbs up. He smiled back and then shook his head in an attempt to regain focus.  
  
“As shown in figure 4.3, the amount of visitors on our website has increased by...”  
  
 _I need you_.  
  
Jaime blinked a couple of times to make sure the words were really there. The screen went dark and then lit up again.  
  
 _Please_.  
  
“Sorry, could you please… Excuse me for just one moment?” he said as he grabbed his phone from the chair and made his way to the door. Walking backwards to face his guests – who were all looking at each other wondering what the fuck was going on - he added, “I’m sorry, I have to… It’s an emergency. I’ll be just a second.” As soon as he closed the door behind him, he started running down the hallway.  
  
“Maggie!” he called as he saw her disappear around the corner. She turned around with a worried look on her face.  
  
“Jaime? What’s wrong?” When he reached her, he read the messages one more time and then looked up at her again.  
  
“I need a favour.”  
  
  
  
Brienne was still on the floor, hugging her knees with her head resting on her arms, when she heard someone enter. Whoever it was, she had a light tread even though she was wearing heels. Brienne looked under the door and saw the woman’s black shoes moving over the grey tiles. She let her head down again, trying to breathe quietly so that she wouldn’t draw any attention to herself.  
  
“Brienne?” the woman called as she moved towards the cubicle. Brienne looked up again and stared at the woman’s legs under the door. “Are you in there?” She frowned at the wall, focussing on trying to recognise the voice, but she had no idea who it was.  
  
“Jaime sent me.”  
  
“Jaime?” Brienne asked, her voice weak.  
  
“Yes. I’m a friend. Would you open the door please? I hate talking to myself.” Brienne hesitated for a moment, but eventually she raised her arm to unlock the door and slowly pushed it open.  
  
“Where is he?” she asked as she looked the young woman up and down.  
  
“He’s in a very important meeting. He wanted to come, truly, but the meeting… It’s some kind of presentation. He was very worried. That’s why he sent me to look after you.” She squatted down on her heels, her white skirt tight around her legs, her arms resting on her knees. Suddenly, Brienne recognised her. She was beautiful, with porcelain skin, with luscious long hair that was neither auburn nor brown and bright blue eyes. Brienne had seen her in Jaime’s office a few days before. In fact, she had seen the two of them together a couple of times.  
  
“He sent his secretary?” Brienne asked, wiping her eyes. The woman raised her eyebrows, visibly offended by her assumption.  
  
“I’m not his secretary. He’s not important enough to have a secretary. Jaime and I go way back. I used to work for his father, but now I’m in Communication. I guess he couldn’t be without me, so he followed me to Winterfell inc.” She gave Brienne a warm smile and even though she knew it was a joke, Brienne lowered her eyes and frowned.  
  
“That was a joke, by the way,” she added.  
  
Brienne nodded, sadly, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”  
  
“No, I’m sorry. You’re clearly upset. Why don’t you get off this filthy floor so we can clean you up, huh?” Brienne shot her a wary look. “I’m not going to hurt you. Come on,” she said as she got up and reached her hand out to her.  
  
“I’m Margaery by the way, but most people call me Maggie, so you can call me Maggie, if you want.”  
  
Brienne took her hand and got to her feet, feeling weak and light-headed.  
“I’m Brienne,” she replied. Margaery nodded and the right side of her mouth curled up into a crooked smile. With cool fingertips she gently touched Brienne’s forehead and then the ripped collar of her shirt.  
  
“How did you know I was here?” Brienne asked, wondering how it was possible that the imperfection of her uneven smile made her even more charming.  
  
“I didn’t,” she answered as she started closing the buttons on Brienne’s shirt. “I guess Jaime knows you better than you think. Although he did ask me to check this weird, dark storage room first. Don’t know what’s up with that.” Brienne lowered her eyes, a weak smile around her lips.  
  
“Can you tell me what happened?” She hadn’t even finished her question or Brienne could feel the tears starting to burn behind her eyes again. She felt tired, so incredibly tired.  
  
“I… I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure if she meant that she couldn’t tell her, or that she didn’t know what happened. Maybe a bit of both. Everything seemed blurry and Brienne could barely move, her muscles so tired from being tensed up that now they felt like jelly. She had lost all control and what was worse, was that she had lost the energy and the will to fight.  
  
“Oh, you’re a mess,” Margaery said. She held some paper towels under the tap and started dabbing them onto the red marks on Brienne’s skin.  
  
“Maybe I should just go home,” Brienne suggested. Margaery violently shook her head.  
  
“Absolutely not. But if you want to get out of here, you can come over to my place. Can you drive?” Brienne slowly nodded, searching Margaery’s face, although she didn’t know what she was looking for. “Maybe you shouldn’t be alone right now,” Margaery added.  
  
“I don’t know...”  
  
“But I do. Jaime sent me to take care of you. That is what I intend to do.” Brienne didn’t have anything to say to that, until she closed her eyes for a moment, and the image of Jaime’s worried face appeared before her.  
  
“What about Jaime?” She asked before realising it. There was something in Margaery’s smile that confused Brienne.  
  
“He’ll be alright,” she said. “Come on. I know just what you need.”  
  
 _I doubt that,_ Brienne thought, but she appreciated Margaery’s effort too much to say anything.  
  
  
  
Not long after that, they pulled up the long driveway to Margaery’s house. Brienne parked her car behind Margaery’s, and as she got out she realised she felt rather uncomfortable. It’s not that she didn’t trust her, it was just that she felt so vile and tired and confused, she didn’t even know if she wanted to be alone or if she wanted to be held.  
  
But then again, who would she allow to hold her, really?  
  
The house didn’t really seem to fit someone in her mid-twenties, or however old Margaery was. First of all, it was so huge it made Brienne wonder if being incredibly rich was one of the criteria for being Jaime’s friend. Second, the house looked very old and the enormous garden was just a stage for an infinite collection of roses in all different colours.  
  
“That’s a lot of roses you’ve got there,” Brienne said. Margaery chuckled.  
  
“They’re not mine, really. They’re my grandmother’s. But yes, it’s true, she has a thing for roses. She sees them as our family sigil.”  
  
The house was tall and majestic with, you guessed it, roses creeping up the walls on every side.  
  
As Margaery twisted the key in the lock of the front door, Brienne studied the door hanger with the name “Tyrell” on it, and asked, “So, you live with your grandmother?”  
  
“I do,” Margaery replied with a hint of pride in her voice.  
  
  
  
As they entered the living room, they found Margaery’s grandmother, bent over an enormous jigsaw puzzle that took up half of the dinner table. Brienne wondered how she was able to put it together without looking at the image for reference. She saw what looked like some sort of medieval castle taking form, surrounded by a garden of roses.  
  
Margaery greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. "Hi grandmother," she said. "I brought someone with me. This is Brienne. Brienne, this is my grandmother, Olenna.” The old lady looked up over her half-moon spectacles and studied Brienne’s beaten appearance.  
  
“Good lord, child,” she said as she looked her up and down. “What happened to you? You look as though you’ve fought a bear!” Brienne felt her cheeks turning red and looked to Margaery for support.  
  
“She got into an argument,” Margaery explained. The old lady frowned and turned her gaze to her granddaughter.  
  
“What kind of office is this you’re working at, my child. I swear sometimes it sounds more like a zoo than anything else.” Margaery shook her head, smiling and disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
When she re-entered the room, Mrs Tyrell looked up at Margaery and said, “You know I hate it when you lie to me. I’m not a halfwit like your father. Now tell me the truth about this girl you’ve brought into our home.”  
  
Then she turned to Brienne, looking slightly annoyed, and added, “Sit down, girl. What are you, a housemaid?” Brienne gave Margaery a confused look and sat down at the table as Margaery poured everyone a cup of jasmine tea.  
  
“Nothing gets past you, grandmother. Alright, it wasn’t really an argument, was it? She was attacked by someone at work.”  
  
Her grandmother tried to fit a few pieces into her puzzle and without looking up, asked, “Anyone I know?”  
  
“It’s Bolton.” Without moving, she glanced over at Margaery and then at Brienne, where she held her gaze for a little while, pursing her lips. Then she put the puzzle piece down and reached over the table for a piece of lemon cake.  
  
“They’re all animals,” she stated. “Idiots, and animals.” Margaery held the plate with lemon cakes out to Brienne, who declined the offer by shaking her head.  
  
“Who, the Boltons?” Margaery asked as she sat back down.  
  
“Oh yes, them too. But no, child, _men_. I was talking about men.” Brienne and Margaery exchanged looks from across the table. Margaery chuckled but then regained her composure.  
  
“Grandmother, please...” she pleaded, “What will Brienne think of us?”  
  
“Well,” she said before stuffing another lemon cake in her mouth, “If she has any wits about her, she’ll think we are intelligent, sensible and independent women and she’ll be glad to be a part of us.” This brought a smile to Brienne’s face.  
  
“I _do_ think so, Mrs Tyrell, thank you.” Mrs Tyrell snorted and took another lemon cake. Fearing she had said something wrong, Brienne looked to Margaery, confused.  
  
The old lady starting humming some unknown tune and Margaery leaned over the table, saying, “She doesn’t like being called Mrs Tyrell. She prefers Lady Olenna.”  
  
Brienne gave her an understanding look and turned back to Margaery’s grandmother, who said, “I don’t suppose we have any more of those divine lemon cakes, do we, child?”  
  
  
  
As soon as Margaery disappeared from view, Lady Olenna said, “So, did he rape you?”  
  
Brienne was taken aback by the directness of her question and felt her cheeks redden. When she didn’t reply with anything more than an indistinguishable stutter, she continued, “I take that as a ‘no’. Good. Either way, you can’t let him get away with this. Roose Bolton is a prick, always has been. As was his father before him. It’s probably a family trait.”  
  
“You know Roose Bolton?” Brienne asked, bewildered by her nonchalance.  
  
“Hmm, sadly I do. I’ve lived here all my life you see. And so have they. The Boltons, I mean. And then there are the Baratheons. I never quite know what to think of them, although I suppose that kid, Randy, or whatever his name is, is alright. He’s quite fond of my granddaughter, you know.” Brienne frowned and stared into her tea. _Baratheon_?  
  
“Do you mean Renly?” she asked. Lady Olenna looked up, slightly annoyed, and then got back to her puzzle without confirming or denying what Brienne had said.  
  
She finally got another puzzle piece to fit and happily exclaimed, “Ah! Good!” Then she gently touched Brienne’s arm and lowered her voice as though she was about to tell her a secret. “Listen to me, child. You’re probably not the first girl he’s done this to, and if you don’t fight him, I fear you will not be the last.”  
  
Right at that moment, Margaery walked back in, announcing, “Jaime will be here soon. He just texted me that he’s on his way.”  
  
Lady Olenna frowned and looked from her granddaughter to Brienne. Then, as if she had suddenly remembered who he was, she exclaimed, “Jaime Lannister! Good! I haven’t seen him in forever. Such a great lad. Even though his father is a vile piece of work. Great businessman though. Ruthless, but great.”  
  
She stared at Brienne for a moment, before turning back to her puzzle, continuing, “You know, there’s a great lesson in jigsaw puzzles. It’s all about the bigger picture, you see. Sometimes you don’t know what things will be, and you keep trying and failing and it’s frustrating. You might even want to give up. But patience… Patience and perseverance will see you through. You focus on one piece at a time and eventually you start to see what you’re working towards. That one piece seems so insignificant, but if they all are, then what _is_ significant? A single thread in a tapestry, though its colour brightly shines, can never see its purpose in the pattern of the grand design, hm?”  
  
She waved one of the pieces in front of Brienne’s face until she fit it in the middle of a large section on the left, completing the entire corner. “The grand design,” she repeated, looking rather pleased with herself. Brienne stared at the puzzle, her mind spinning.  
  
“Grandmother, why do you always have to be so cryptic?” Margaery asked.

Lady Olenna took another lemon cake and leaned back in her chair. “I have no love for the obvious things in life,” she answered. “I find that the obvious makes the mind lazy. And who wants a lazy mind, hm?”  
  
  
  
It wasn’t long until the doorbell rang. Margaery nodded to Brienne and said, “I think you should get that,” to which Lady Olenna shook her head and rolled her eyes. Brienne slowly walked to the front door. Her heart beat fast and steady in her chest when she opened the door and saw Jaime’s worried face.  
  
“Brienne.” It was almost a sigh. He seemed to be about to step forward to embrace her, but changed his mind and stepped back again.  
  
His eyes were sad and he looked tired. For a moment, they just stood there in silence, staring at each other.  
  
Brienne wasn’t sure what came over her, but something seemed to explode deep within her. Like a volcano, an earth-shattering desire to hold him erupted from her chest, causing her to step forward without thinking, as she flung her arms around his neck.  
  
Jaime stumbled backwards, completely perplexed, and held his arms out to keep his balance. His muscles froze under her touch, and just when she thought she’d made a mistake and wanted to let go of him, his warm arms pulled her into his embrace, tightening firmly around her back as they melted into each other.  
  
Brienne wasn’t sure how long the embrace lasted. Time seemed to be a highly ambiguous obscurity, something equally inevitable and of the utmost unimportance. Brienne pressed her face against his neck and cried in silence as he stroked her hair.  
  
When she finally drew back, Jaime moved his hands to cup her face and looked deep into her eyes, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.  
  
“I’m so sorry about all of this,” he said quietly. Then he moved his hand up and gently rubbed his thumb over the bruise on her head. “Did he do this?”  
  
Brienne took a step back, increasing the distance between them, and touched her own forehead. “I think _I_ did...” she said, hesitantly. Jaime’s fingers lightly touched the red marks down her neck.  
  
There was so much pain in his eyes as he examined her bruises, Brienne could barely stand to look at him. The hurt in his eyes felt more real than any pain she felt on the outside of her skin. Whatever damage she carried inside was too far away to reach right now, hidden under a layer of confusion, relief and regret.  
  
“I’m sorry to ask you this, but did he… He didn’t… Did he?” Brienne gave him a weak smile and shook her head.  
  
“He didn’t.” Jaime sighed, visibly relieved.  
  
“Thank god. Listen Brienne, he’s going to pay for this.” With one hand, he reached for hers and with the other, he gently cupped her face.  
  
“Jaime, it’s-”  
  
“You have my word. I will make him pay for this. I will.” He sounded so determined that she didn’t want to argue with him.  
  
“Alright,” she said.  
  
  
  
When they went back inside, Lady Olenna’s face lit up as if she was reunited with her long lost son.  
  
“I’m not going to lie, it still hurts me that things didn’t work out between you two,” she said, and Brienne felt something twist inside her stomach. “You’re one of the very few _good_ ones, you know that? Now we’re stuck with that _boy_ , Roland.”  
  
“His name is Renly, grandmother, and he’s a good guy. He’s gentle and patient and kind.”  
  
Lady Olenna rolled her eyes. “Yes. That’s wonderful. But is he strong? Will he protect you? The world is not a playground, Margaery. We might not realise it, but we are all fighting at war. You need a _soldier_ , not a flag bearer.”  
  
Margaery shrugged indifferently and said, “At least he has a good heart.” Then she chuckled and added, “And his father is a very wealthy man.”  
  
“So is his,” Lady Olenna argued, pointing at Jaime, who smiled and said, “This is true. They say he even shits gold. I wouldn’t know.” Everyone, including Lady Olenna, laughed at that.  
  
“Oh well,” she said after a sigh of disappointment. “I suppose your happiness is all that counts. I know you love him, my dear. I just hope it’s enough.” Then she looked back and forth between Brienne and Jaime. “I suppose for some, it is,” she added as her gaze lingered on Brienne. “Now if you’ll please excuse me. Those lemon cakes have a way of messing with my glucose levels and I need a rest.” She then reached for Brienne’s hands and said, “It was lovely to meet you, child. Take care of yourself. And remember that bigger picture I told you about.”  
  
Finally, she turned to Jaime. “You know how I feel about men.”  
  
Margaery huffed and said, “Yes, grandmother, I think we _all_ know how you feel about men.”  
  
Lady Olenna waved at her dismissively. “Even a queen can’t win a war by herself. She needs a soldier, to lead her army into battle. A _soldier._ You hear me?” She didn’t await his reply, but lightly patted Jaime on the shoulder and disappeared around the corner, leaving everyone in a state of impenetrable bewilderment.  
  
“I should probably go home,” Brienne said, breaking the silence.  
  
Jaime and Margaery exchanged looks and he said, “I’ll drive you.”  
  
“What about my car?” Brienne asked as they walked to the front door.  
  
“Oh, right… I forgot about that.”  
  
“It’s okay, I can drive home myself. Besides, your house is on the opposite side of town.”  
  
Jaime gave her a meaningful smile. “That’s quite alright. I like taking the long way home.” They stared each other for a moment, almost forgetting they weren’t the only people in the world. Then she turned to Margaery and thanked her before they said their goodbyes.  
  
As Brienne walked outside, she realised Jaime was still in the doorway, talking to Margaery in a hushed voice. When he saw Brienne turn around, he quickly said, “Thanks again, Maggie, I’ll see you on Monday,” and followed Brienne outside.  
  
  
  
Jaime opened the car door but couldn’t get himself to get in. He turned around to watch Brienne searching for something in her bag, hesitated for a moment and then slowly closed the door again.  
  
As he walked up to her, he said, “Please let me follow you home. I just want to make sure you get home safe after everything that’s happened.”  
  
“Nothing’s going to happen Jaime. Honestly, I’m fine now. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She wasn’t sure why she sounded so hostile.  
  
Jaime shook his head. “Yes, I know that, it’s just… I’d feel so much better knowing that you’re safe.”  
  
“I can text you to let you know I’m safe. You don’t need to drive all the way across town to-”  
  
“Please just… Let me do this. Please.”  
  
Brienne searched his eyes for a moment and then sighed.  
  
“Alright, fine.”  
  
  
  
On the way to her house, Jaime kept going over what he should say once they got out of their cars, but his mind was like a drawer full of cotton balls. Whatever he’d do, he simply could not let himself fuck this up.  
  
When they parked their cars in front of Brienne’s apartment, he followed her up to the steps where she turned around and sat down.  
  
“Will you sit with me for a while?” she asked.  
  
The question surprised him, but he smiled and sat down next to her, the same way he had done the very first night they met. When a random sequence of decisions – some worse than others – had led to them meeting in the middle of the night, somewhere on a road to nowhere.  
  
“Remember how, last time we sat here, you offered to be my friend?”  
  
“I do,” he replied.  
  
“Does that offer still stand? Do you think we could be friends?”  
  
 _Friends. Right_. Jaime smiled, although he wasn’t sure if he felt happy or disappointed.  
  
“Of course,” he said.  
  
She nodded, biting her lip as they watched two boys passing by on their skateboards.  
  
“It’s just that... I don’t know how to do that.”  
  
“Do what?” Jaime asked, confused, “Friendship?” She nodded again, avoiding his eyes.  
  
He hesitated for a moment, but then placed his hand with the back on her knee. Brienne looked from his hand to his face and back, perhaps confused or perhaps terrified.  
  
When she eventually placed her hand in his, Jaime said, “All you need to do, is give me your trust, and the rest will follow.”  
  
He pretended not to see the tear in her eye when she smiled at him. Then suddenly, she rose to her feet.  
  
“I’m cold,” she announced. “I want to go inside.”  
  
“Oh, of course,” Jaime replied as he got up and slowly walked down the steps.  
  
It seemed like walking away from her became harder every single time. As if with every step, his heart was tearing at the seams.  
  
As if the two of them were tied together by an invisible elastic band, and the further he tried to walk away, the harder he would crash back into her.  
  
“Jaime,” Brienne’s voice sounded behind him. He turned around to face her, but she didn’t say anything.  
  
“Yes?” He urged, his voice ringing with hope and worry.  
  
“I was wondering...” Without realising it, Jaime took a step back up the stairs.  
  
“Yes?” he repeated.  
  
“I think... I think I don’t want to be alone right now. Will you stay with me? Please?”  
  
A wave of warmth inside Jaime’s chest knocked the air out of him. A thousand words tumbled through his mind and he couldn’t seem to string them together.  
  
He just stood there, staring up at her in the evening light, until he finally managed to say, “As long as you want me to.”


	10. Chapter 10

Jaime had gone straight into the kitchen when they arrived at Brienne’s apartment, looking for food. Brienne leaned over the counter, resting on her forearms, fascinated by how strangely at home he seemed to feel in her worn down, small and messy apartment. Her home was, in many ways, the complete opposite of his own. The only thing that was incredibly similar between the two, was the way the light came through the window and danced across the floor in the morning.   
  
Brienne couldn’t bear the silence and so she asked him if it was alright if she put on some music. Then she locked herself in the bathroom for a good 30 minutes, where she spent the first 15 cursing herself for asking him to stay.  
  
 _Why do I insist on making everything so god damn complicated? I should have just let him go. That’s what I’m good at, right? Letting people go.  
  
_ She decided she would tell him that she had changed her mind, and that he should just go home after dinner.  
  
When she left the bathroom in a cloud of steam and heavy thoughts, she said, “Jaime, I...”, but then the words had gone. What came out was practically the opposite of what she had meant to say.  
  
“I just wanted to thank you again, for doing this. For being here.” He gave her a warm smile.  
  
“Thank _you_ ,” he said. “For letting me stay.”  
  
Brienne could only nod and then retreated to her bedroom, feeling betrayed by her own needy heart, defeated by the selfishness of her soul.  
  
As she pointlessly brushed her wet hair in the broken mirror, she couldn’t fight the urge to look up and into the kitchen every now and then, to watch him. He was biting his lip, something Brienne had noticed he tended to do whenever he was either lost in thought or very focused on something. When she had first noticed, she thought it made him look like a child, but soon enough she had come to admit to herself that she found it rather charming. She tried not to stare for too long, but she had a feeling that they were secretly playing a game of catch-me-looking and that whenever she tore her gaze away from him, his eyes would find her.  
  
There was a strange calmness inside her and she clenched her jaw fighting the realisation that _he_ was the reason. But what should she say? What did she even want from him? As she walked back into the room, she roughly scratched over her scalp with her long fingers, messing up the short hair she’d just spent minutes brushing. Jaime chuckled at the sight.  
  
“How can I help?” Brienne asked.  
  
“By sitting back and relaxing. Have a drink if you like.”  
  
Brienne raised her eyebrows and said, “Thanks for allowing me to have a drink in my own home,” to which Jaime replied with an uncomfortable look. She quickly added, “I’m joking. Thank you. Is there really nothing I can do to help?” Jaime shook his head, smiling.  
  
“Fine. You’re in charge of carrots today.” He shoved one of the cutting boards and a couple of carrots across the counter and nodded towards the bar stool on the opposite side. "I think I'll call you Captain Carrot from now on." Brienne rolled her eyes and pointed the knife at him.   
  
"I don't think so. Not if you want to keep those fingers."  
  
They spent the rest of the time it took to prepare their meal, drifting on clouds of their own silence, hiding behind the music Brienne had put on. Perhaps they were only pretending to be listening, or perhaps they were plainly avoiding talking to each other. Whatever the truth was, no amount of music in the world could drown out the noise of all the things left unsaid.  
  
They ate their dinner at the table next to the window, just like last time. Jaime told her about Margaery, and how they had met 6 years ago when she came to work for his father.  
  
“So she’s your ex girlfriend?” Brienne asked as she used her fork to push the carrots back and forth across her plate.  
  
“Not really. We were never _really_ together.” He paused and looked down. “I suppose some people are just meant to be friends, you know. Nothing more.” Brienne nodded slowly.  
  
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  
  
Brienne had been trying to ignore the sound of his phone constantly buzzing, reminding her that they weren't the only two people in the world - but it was hard. _Very_ hard.  
  
Like trying to ignore a crying baby in a restaurant.  
  
Or an alarm going off in a library.  
  
Or even just the way his eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled at her.  
  
 _Fucking impossible_.  
  
  
The streets below had already sunk their way into the darkness, while inside, the flickering yellow light of the candles fought bravely against the shadows on the walls and inside Brienne’s mind. Jaime was about to give up on trying not to address the elephant in the room. Brienne saw it coming from miles away. The way he kept rubbing his hand over his chin and the way he stared at nothing in particular with a frown on his face. The look of worry when she caught him staring at her, the one he tried to hide behind a sad smile when she did.  
  
They had sort-of argued over who would do the washing up, and Brienne made fun of how ridiculous he sounded when he told her that he didn’t mind doing it, because it had been _years_. She teased him with how that was something only rich people say. The more he tried to explain that he didn’t mean it like that, the more ammunition he gave her to attack him for his wealth and riches. Of course Jaime eventually won the “argument” and got to enjoy himself in the kitchen while Brienne sat down on the sofa with her back towards him, pretending to be reading.  
  
She could hear his sigh behind her, shuffling around, trying to figure out where to sit or stand whilst talking to her. He walked over to the coffee table where Brienne had sat when he had kissed her. There, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, almost as if the same memory was playing in his head as in Brienne’s, but then she remembered that that was impossible.  
  
You can’t replay a memory you don’t have.  
  
After a few seconds, he turned around and sat down on one of the bar stools, where he cleared his throat as though he was about to give a speech.  
  
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but… It’s just that I want to help you, but it’s hard when… I just wish we could...”  
  
Brienne sighed quietly and moved to the other side of the sofa to face him. Her heart seemed to overflow with guilt upon seeing his face. Guilt about the awful things she had thought about him, for the way she had judged him before she got to know him.  
  
The sound of his voice evaporated into the low rumble of her thoughts. Two months ago, she’d rolled her eyes at the sound of his name, turned around at the sight of him, avoided him like the plague when their paths were about to cross.  
  
 _What changed?_ she wondered.  
  
She got to know him, that’s what changed. And now she looked at him through different eyes, and it changed everything. She could barely remember what her life was like, before he was part of it, but now, he most certainly was.  
  
It was no use trying to deny it any longer. It was pointless, trying to fight the way her heart yearned to be around him. She couldn’t do it anymore, tired of trying to figure out why, _why_ , he was so important to her that she could not let him go. Didn’t _want_ to let him go. She simply didn't understand. Like this chapter of the manual to her life was written in some weird foreign language. A few bolts, plugs and screws and good luck with that.  
  
Brienne had worked really hard convincing herself that she was doing well. It was all fine. _She_ was fine. We all deceive ourselves when we want to believe.  
  
Then Jaime showed up and made her doubt everything. Most of all, her notion of being _fine_. It didn’t mean anything to her anymore. He had crashed into her life and left it completely upside down. Everything she thought she knew went spinning through the sky, like leaves in a storm, completely out of control.  
  
When did he steal into her life and without her permission, change everything? And _how_? He hadn’t done anything. All he did was… be there.  
  
Yes, right there, in the centre of her universe, radiant like the sun with his blinding smile and piercing eyes.  
  
He was the rock she secretly clung to under the waves of her fear… A safe haven, a beacon, a ray of light to show her the way out of the darkness that she had made her home.   
  
He was her... _Friend_.  
  
Yes, her friend.  
  
  
Brienne hadn’t even noticed that he was still talking, stumbling over his words. She felt her face going red as she realised she had been staring at him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said, slightly defeated or perhaps slightly desperate, “I must sound like an idiot. I’m not trying to upset you...” She shook her head and wanted to get up and take his hand, but didn’t.  
  
“You don’t sound like an idiot. I know it’s difficult, that _I’m_ difficult.” He looked as though he was about to contradict her, but she didn’t give him any room to. “I know you want to help me. I just don’t know if you can.”  
  
He sat down next to her, and said, “I _can_. I know I can, if you let me. You don’t have to tell me everything, but just… If you could just… Give me something. I need _something_.” He was almost pleading, and Brienne could feel him knocking and tugging at the walls around her heart.  
  
In the imaginary echo of his voice, she could Sandor urging her to tell Jaime. All the words, all the different ways to tell her story – they were floating around in her mind, but as soon as she tried to reach for them, they seemed to fly away.  
  
“We have to come up with a plan,” Jaime told her.  
  
 _We?_  
  
Brienne sighed and said, “I don’t know...”  
  
He barely let her finish, continuing, “We have to start somewhere. You have to tell someone.” She shook her head and rose to her feet, walking away from him.  
  
She was dancing around him like their hearts were magnets; she'd turn one way and she would crash into him with deafening force. Then she'd turn the other way and couldn’t let him close enough to touch her.  
  
“You don’t think I’ve tried that? How do you think those rumours came into the world in the first place? Trust me, I’ve tried telling people. And you know what happened? _Nothing_.” She could hear the pain in her own voice and cursed herself for it. “I was told that it was all in my mind, that I made it all up, trying to create some kind of pathetic self-fulfilling prophecy. They told me I shouldn’t feel too bad, I wasn’t the first girl to imagine getting that kind of attention from a man like... From a man like him. And you know what they did when I left? They warned me not to tell anyone else. They _threatened_ me. Do you have any idea what that was like?” Brienne turned to him, but didn’t meet his eyes. “Did you know Bolton is one of the main stakeholders of Winterfell inc?” Jaime stood up and moved towards her.  
  
“We’ll find someone else, someone who’ll _listen_ ,” he urged. Brienne shook her head and turned back to the window, crossing her arms in an attempt to feign a strength in her appearance that she lacked in her soul.   
  
“It won’t help, Jaime. It won’t change anything, except that I might lose my job. A job I love very much and that I can’t afford to lose. It’s just not worth it, alright?”  
  
“No,” Jaime said, a strange sort of defiance in his voice. “No, it’s not alright. I'll tell them what I saw.” She looked at him, almost angrily.  
  
"You didn't see _anything_ , Jaime. Whatever you _think_ you saw, they'll find away to twist your words until you don't even remember what you saw."   
  
"Then we'll go to the police." Brienne scoffed loudly, sending her frustration vibrating through the air.   
  
“ _P_ _uh_ , the police. Give me a break. They don't care about things like this. None of them do. They’ll just let it go for lack of evidence again.”  
  
 _Fuck_.  
  
She hadn’t as much as finished her sentence or she felt Jaime’s questions exploding from his mind, attacking hers, but the words never left his mouth.  
  
“I mean,” she started, “It’s just...” but a voice inside her head was telling her it was too late.  
  
“Again?” His voice was quiet, cautious as he stepped closer to her. “Brienne… What do you mean, _again_?”  
  
How do you start telling someone the story of how you came to be so incredibly fucked up? Is there a right way? Where do you start?  
  
Brienne had her back turned to him, chewing her lip in a feeble attempt to distract her heart from aching. His voice pulled her back to reality.  
  
“Please, Brienne… You have to understand, all I want is to help you. I hate seeing you like this.” The words blasted through the air and collided with the wall she tried so hard to simultaneously keep up and break down.  
  
“Why?” Her voice was small, fragile, like a dandelion in the wind. Jaime took another hesitant step towards here, until there was nothing left between them but the table and a lifetime of heartache.  
  
“Because I… Because you’re...” The silence and the distance between them were heavy like a cloud of black smoke. She felt the need to help him, so say something, but she didn’t know how to. “Because I care about you. Because you are my friend.”  
  
 _Friend_.   
  
He moved to her side but still she refused to look at him.  
  
“Right?”  
  
How could the weight of one word be so enormous? Brienne tore her gaze away from the window to look at him, and all the air and all the words in the world seemed to have dissolved into nothing.  
  
It had been a long time since she had been someone’s _anything_. And even when she was, she was someone’s adventure, a game, a means to an end, a distraction.  
  
A victim.  
  
The other woman.  
  
Her strong and intriguing appearance always seemed to spark a hunger most men didn’t even know they had. But even though the way her mind was built suited her physical appearance, she had feelings too, and in the process of trying to light a fire striking matches made of ice, she had become the one thing she had fought so hard to avoid.  
  
A bloody _trophy_.  
  
Shining, but cold and hard and heavy.  
  
Being vulnerable was being weak.  
  
Being the object of desire was a trap.  
  
She had been a fool one too many times and now she found herself incapable of attachment, of any true relationship built on anything other than lust and lies and deceit. She had gotten so used to saying ‘no’ that now, it was the only thing she knew.  
  
It had become a part of her like the clouds are a part of the sky.  
  
Suddenly a black veil of painful memories draped over her mind, trying to suffocate her inner strength. Brienne tried to shake away the darkness but it was persistent and overwhelming.  
  
The memory of someone’s heavy breath in her neck gave her chills.  
  
Even though she tried to fight it, hands of steel groping her skin, greedy, hungry, invaded her mind like it was really happening all over again.  
  
Dark brown eyes raking her skin, fingers burning on her thighs, hands around her throat.  
  
The memory was devouring her.  
  
 _Burn the ropes that are holding you back. Kick down that door.  
  
You’re not a coward. __Tell him._  
  
  
“Brienne?”  
  
She was gone again. Even though her body was right there, almost close enough to touch, her mind was elsewhere. Wherever she went in these moments, Jaime knew it wasn’t a good place. He wanted to pull her back, remembering the last time she got like this and almost tore the skin off her feet attempting to take off her shoes.  
  
When she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears and an overwhelming darkness.  
  
“It was my mistake,” she said quietly. “I loved someone who was incapable of loving anyone or anything other than himself. Someone whose dark and twisted heart was devoured by a lethal combination of hate and desire.”  
  
Jaime frowned, drowning in the whirl of her words.  
  
“I was in a bad place. My father had just died, I was alone. Helpless. Lost.” She clenched her jaw and lowered her eyes. “ _Unloved_. The perfect victim, right? I was blind and thought I loved him. Thought he loved me back. Once I found out who he truly was, I tried to leave him. To leave everything behind, but… He followed me the way he still follows me in my dreams. He followed me to make sure I would never forget him. And now I never will.”  
  
She turned back to look out the window, or at least she pretended to.  
  
“Remember those shoes? They were a gift from my father, not too long before he died. I wore them on the night I… When he...” She shook her head, a tear, heavy with pain, quietly rolling down her cheek. She couldn't finish her sentence.  
  
“When I got to my house, he was waiting for me. I made the mistake of letting him in. He said he wanted to talk, so I let him in... He didn’t want to talk. He was so angry. I’ve never seen anyone _so_ angry. It was terrifying. I tried to fight him but… It was the last evening I spent in that apartment.” She rubbed her hands over her arms, perhaps because the memory opened a lock to her soul that allowed a most frightening cold in, or perhaps reminding herself that she was still here.  
  
She turned her painful gaze to meet his and said, “I think it’s even worse when it’s someone close to you, you know? Someone you trust.” Then she turned away again and shook her head. “Like I said… It was my mistake. I cared about him, once. I trusted him. I let him _in_. And when I… When I learned the truth about who he was, I wanted out, but he came after me and he... You know...” She couldn’t say the words, so instead she left it to Jaime’s horrifying imagination to fill in the gaps of the words she left unsaid.  
  
Brienne sighed deeply and then continued, her voice swiftly changing from devastation to bitterness. “By the time I found the strength to go to the police, it was too late. The marks he had left on my skin had faded. And apparently the police don’t count the craters they leave behind in your very soul as evidence. I’ve never been the same since and I don’t think I ever will be. He took everything from me. _Everything_.”  
  
Jaime had let himself down on one of the chairs halfway through her story, fearing his legs may give way beneath the weight of her words.  
  
 _It's not true_ , he wanted to say. _Not everything._ But he couldn't.  
  
Brienne turned around to look at him again.  
  
“I’m sorry... That’s all I can give you right now.”  
  
He didn’t know what to say. What is there to say? Are there any right words? Jaime swallowed. Her story made him sick. Her _pain_ made him sick. No combination of vowels and consonants he could produce would be the right one. This was a time where all words would fail. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until the next dawn, but realised that was probably the last thing she wanted in the world.  
  
He opened his mouth, but all that came out was, “Brienne, I...” She gave him a weak and tired smile.  
  
“Please, don’t… Just… Don’t say anything, okay? Don’t say anything.” The apartment seemed to be too small and too big at the same time. Jaime didn’t know where to look or where to sit or stand, or what to say – if anything. He was afraid to hurt her with words, with looks, with touches. Then he remembered the way she had flung her arms around his neck earlier that day and the frosty anger in his heart started to thaw. He felt incredibly selfish and insensitive for wanting her arms around him again. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to hold her to comfort _her_ , or himself.  
  
“I understand if you want to leave, I’m really sorry...” Jaime had to blink a couple of times to focus.  
  
“What? No, of course not. There’s no way I’m leaving you. And thank you for telling me. I can’t begin to imagine how hard that must have been for you...” He could see the blood creeping up her neck and felt guilty for saying it, so he quickly added, “What do you say we go on a little walk, hm? Get some of this… toxicity out.” He made a strange gesture, not even sure what he meant to do, but it made her chuckle and the sound of anything other than her hurt and despair instantly lifted a weight off his chest.   
  
  
They waded through the darkness and quiet of the streets for more than an hour. Even though Brienne feared she might have scared Jaime off, filled his mind with crazy ideas about her weakness and her past, she felt a flicker of hope deep inside. It sparked with every smile he gave her, every time he frowned at something she said, every time he bit his lip when he was lost in thought. They stopped by a petrol station where Jaime bought a tub of ice cream, commanding her to eat at least half of it when they got back. When they returned, they sat on opposite sides of the sofa, eating their ice cream, talking about all things and nothing in particular.  
  
Her skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the candles and Jaime felt a strange tingle in his neck and down his spine as he remembered kissing her.  
  
 _Stupid bloody idiot. It’_ _s_ _a m_ _iracle_ _she’_ _s even still speaking to you_ _.  
  
_ But she _was_ speaking to him. She had let him into her home, into her world. And only now did he realise how incredibly difficult that must have been for her. Jaime smiled at the memory, but then he remembered asking her if anything had happened between them, and his smile faded.  
  
She'd said no. Why? Was it because she didn’t remember? Or because she wanted to forget?  
  
“ _Don’t worry, nothing happened_ ,” she had told him.  
  
It was a lie.   
  
Something did happen. He had kissed her. Yes, maybe it was a mistake, maybe he shouldn’t have. And okay, it only lasted a few seconds and Jaime was barely conscious, but to say it didn’t happen…  
  
He looked up at her, watching as she sat leaning back with her knees up, her eyes drifting over the page of a book while she chewed on the nail of her thumb.  
  
“Brienne...” he said. She didn’t look up, but merely hummed. “Are you afraid of me?” She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, and Jaime felt that strange tingle again. Her eyes were big and dark as she looked at him, a terrifyingly deep shade of blue. She took a breath in and opened her mouth, but then she closed it again with a sigh.  
  
“No. I’m not afraid of you.”  
  
 _Then why did you lie?_  
  
The words were right there, already swirling around in his mouth, tugging at his lips. All he had to do was push them out.  
  
But he didn’t.  
  
Instead, he smiled and said, “Okay. I’m glad.” She smiled back and continued reading. He wasn’t sure if he believed her.  
  
“It’s just… You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?” Brienne lowered the book and frowned at him.  
  
“I know. Except for that one time you almost broke my nose.” Brienne chuckled but Jaime didn’t think it was funny. He didn’t even smile. “Sorry… I know,” she repeated, more seriously.  
  
 _Then why did you lie?_  
  
“I mean it,” he said sternly. “I promise I will never hurt you. Can you believe that? Can you trust me?”  
  
Brienne looked down for a moment, but forced herself to look into his eyes when she said, “I will try.”  
  
He placed his hand between them on the sofa, waiting for her to take it.  
  
“We’re friends now, right? And I don’t hurt my friends. I wouldn’t hurt _you_.”  
  
She smiled, sadly.  
  
 _Oh, but you already have_.


	11. Chapter 11

Something kept him up. No, not something – someone. Only a few metres behind him, Brienne was twisting and turning in her bed and he couldn’t sleep because of it. There was no door to separate the living area from the bedroom, so all Jaime had to do to look into her room and into her bed, was sit up and lean to the side. He told himself not to, though. Instead, he lay on his back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling until he was so fed up with his own mind that he decided to get one of the books from the shelf above the television. Then he popped his earphones in, trying to drown out the sound of Brienne’s restlessness, but the disquiet of his mind made sure the music wouldn’t reach him. After a while of half-reading, his eyes started to droop and as the book fell on his chest, so did he fall into a dreamless sleep.  
  
He woke from a strange and indefinable sensation. Like someone is looking at you when you can’t see them. When her hand touched his arm, his eyes flew open.  
  
“What? What happened?” She smiled with a tiny chuckle.  
  
“Sorry to wake you.”  
  
“You didn’t. I wasn’t asleep. I was just listening to some music,” he lied, pretending to pause the playlist that had ended ages ago. “What is it? Are you okay?” She looked down at something invisible.  
  
“I can’t sleep,” she said. “The light was still on, so I thought you were awake-”  
  
“I was. I was awake.”  
  
“Alright. So, anyway, I got up to get some water and I was just wondering... What are you reading?” Jaime frowned and propped himself up against the pillows, clearing his throat to prevent his voice from betraying that he had been asleep. He turned the book around in his hand.  
  
“ _Storm’s End_. Have you read it?” She shook her head. “It’s about a woman who loses her entire family in a boating accident. At least, I think that’s what it’s about. I haven’t gotten very far.”  
  
Brienne looked down at the book and quietly said, “Sounds sad...”  
  
“Yeah I suppose it is,” Jaime replied. “What time is it anyway?”  
  
He was about to reach for his phone on the table when Brienne said, “3.15,” and Jaime let himself fall back into the pillows, crossing his arms behind his head.  
  
“I couldn’t sleep either,” he said. “That’s why I got this book. I hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Of course not. In fact, I was thinking. If it’s not too weird and you’re not too tired-”  
  
“I’m not. I’m not too tired,” Jaime said. Brienne raised one eyebrow.  
  
“What is it with you not letting me finish my sentences?” He chuckled.  
  
“Sorry. You were saying...”  
  
“Yes, so, I was saying that maybe, if you’re not too tired, you would read to me?” He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t this. He looked around the room in hopes of finding something to say. She must have seen his confusion, because she continued, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. If it’s weird. Maybe it’s weird, you know, never-” She got up from the backrest of the sofa but Jaime quickly grabbed her arm, only to let it go as soon as she turned around.  
  
“Of course I will read to you. I just hope I don’t stumble over my words.” She gave him a smile that was so warm he almost forget the chill that had settled in his bones earlier that evening.  
  
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. I'll make us some tea."  
  
  
A little while later, Brienne was back in bed with the covers up to her chin, laying on her side with her hands under her head, while Jaime read to her from the blue armchair. He had his feet on the bed and without saying a word, Brienne had draped one of her blankets over his legs. It made it hard for Jaime to focus on the story and Brienne had chuckled and said, “Can you read?”, but all Jaime could do was let out some kind of pathetic, nervous giggle. It must have made Brienne feel bad, because every time he messed up after that, she would just smile at him from where she lay buried under her blankets.  
  
Reading out loud made Jaime feel nervous, like he was back in school. He had never been the best at reading. His father told him he was too impatient, his teachers told him he was too stupid. Jaime wasn’t sure if either one was true, but whatever the truth was, he gave up on trying soon enough. Instead, he’d let his younger brother, Tyrion, read to him. They had a shared love for stories of knights and dragons and pirates and their treasures. They would steal away into their secret tree house – if you could call it that – deep in the woods behind their house and they would read together.  
  
Tyrion was incredibly smart and although he was a few years younger than Jaime, he was reading entire books by the time Jaime had properly learned the alphabet. The tree house and reading together, travelling through their shared imagination - it was their secret. It was a place where they would run to, to escape their father’s wrath and rage. Jaime tried to remember when they stopped escaping together, but he couldn’t. One day they would lay on their backs in their little tree house and stare up at the canopy of leaves, pretending to be on a voyage at sea, or a quest through the mountains, and the next, they had grown up and grown apart.   
  
When Jaime flipped the page to the next chapter, Brienne suddenly said, “You have a good voice.” Jaime looked up and saw she had her eyes closed, but when he didn’t respond, she opened one eye for just a second and then closed it again. “I mean, _relatively_ good. For a rich, arrogant, impatient, _insufferable_ person. So it’s really not _that_ good.” He laughed.  
  
“I’m glad I’ve exceeded your expectations,” he said. This time she opened both her eyes to frown at him.   
  
“My expectations were incredibly low. Even a screaming baby would have exceeded my expectations.” Jaime shook his head, smiling.  
  
“Well, in that case, I guess I’d better stop.” She reached her arm out to him and slammed her hand down on the book, preventing him from closing it and putting it away.  
  
“No… Don’t stop. I was joking. You _do_ have a good voice. Now don’t make me feed your ego by saying it again and just continue reading. Please.” Then she readjusted the pillows, lay back down, pulled the covers up to her chin again and watched him he read to her.  
  
It was well past 4.30 am when Jaime was certain she had fallen asleep and felt confident that he could stop reading without waking her by suddenly going quiet. He stared at her over the edge of the book, wondering what she was dreaming about. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, because his mind showed him the same vision he had seen with his eyes open.  
  
He woke from a dull ache in his neck, from leaning to one side for too long. No sooner had he rubbed the sleep from his eyes than he had to swallow back a chuckle. Had Brienne been buried under the covers before Jaime fell asleep, she was now spread across the bed like a starfish. She held one part of the covers clamped between her legs and another part clutched to her chest with her right hand. One long leg was straight to one side and she had the other pulled up as if she was about to kick someone. Her left arm rested above her head and her face was turned to meet the soft rays of morning light as they gently stroked her skin.  
  
Her shirt had gotten twisted around her body from all her restlessness and now showed a lot more skin than Jaime was willing to believe she would have liked. But she wasn’t awake to have an opinion on the matter and so Jaime decided to enjoy the sound of her deep and slow breathing and the sight of the sunlight kissing the fair skin on her arms and stomach. He had been intrigued by Brienne from the very first time he had seen her, but he had always thought that she wasn’t necessarily beautiful. She was interesting, fascinating, extraordinary, yes, but she was too _different_ to be beautiful.  
  
 _Oh, how the mighty have fallen_ , he thought, miserably. _What has become of me? Staring at a sleeping woman who will never want me the way I want her. Envious of how the god damn sunlight gets to touch her in ways I probably never will. It’s pathetic,_ _really_.  
  
He sighed as he felt a stirring in his groin and quickly adjusted himself, fighting to will the thoughts away, overcome by selfishness. _How can you think about her like that?_ _he_ asked himself. _After everything she_ _’s_ _told you. After promising to be her frien_ _d. How can you be so selfish?_  
  
He couldn't help himself, though. How could he have ever thought she was anything less than extraordinarily beautiful? How had he not seen before, that the way she was _different_ , and not just because of her looks, was _exactly_ what made her so special and so, yes, _so_ beautiful.  
  
Suddenly, Brienne's breathing changed, announcing her waking and Jaime crossed his legs to hide was was going on between them. She stretched her arms out in front of her and turned her head to face him. She opened only one eye and when she saw him, she licked her dry lips, quietly cleared her throat and then said “Morning,” in a way that seemed to drain the blood from Jaime’s head. Then she must have felt the morning air on her skin, because she moved her hand to feel her bare stomach and quickly covered herself under the blankets again. Jaime smiled at her.  
  
“Good morning. Did you sleep okay?” Brienne turned her face to the window for a few seconds, before looking back at him again.  
  
“Yeah I did, actually.” She paused for a moment. “Thank you, Jaime.” He replied with a nod and then got up, holding the book in front of his crotch. She didn’t seem to notice.  
  
“Would you like some coffee? Breakfast?” Brienne sat up in bed, ready to say something, but then she noticed the worried look on his face and returned it with a frown.  
  
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Jaime let himself down on the edge of the bed and Brienne pulled the covers up over her chest when she felt his eyes move over her skin, almost burning right into it. “Stop,” she said quietly.  
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just…” He moved his hand to point at her neck, but then touched his own. “Your bruises.” Brienne dropped the covers and looked down at herself, mirroring where Jaime had touched his own neck. There were three small bruises on her right breast. She could almost see the fingerprints on her skin and the thought slithered through her veins, making her shudder.  
  
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” His voice had to crawl through thick clouds of confusion to reach her, so it took her a while to look up and meet his eyes. Then she slowly shook her head.  
  
“No. I can’t feel it.” Jaime nodded.  
  
“Good… But Brienne… I think we should...” Brienne knew what he was going to say and didn’t want to let him finish.

“I know you think I should go to the police. But I can’t.” He shook his head, almost angrily.  
  
“I understand that it’s hard but you’ve got to do _something_.” Brienne got up on the other side of the bed and quickly put on a pair of jeans.  
  
“That’s the problem. You _don’t_ understand. You think you do, and I believe that you try, I really do, but… Please, just let it go. It’s nothing.” She walked around the bed to step into the living room, but he blocked her way. Brienne flinched when he did and Jaime immediately backed away when he realised that he was cornering her.  
  
“He left bruises on your skin, Brienne. Do you call that nothing? Look at yourself!” He pointed at the broken mirror and when she met her own reflection, she found the large bruise on her neck and the one on her forehead, from where her head had collided with Bolton's face. She shook her head and walked away from him.  
  
“I get bruises all the time. Ask Sandor.”  
  
“ _Why_?” He sounded equally angry and desperate as he followed her into the kitchen area. “Why are you not fighting this? I don’t get it.” Brienne sighed deeply. She had her back turned to him but she could almost feel the pain and powerlessness in his eyes.  
  
“Jaime, I-”  
  
“You said I could make him pay for what he’s done to you. Please. Go to the police. I’ll go with you, I'll take you there and bring you back home. I’ll be there every step of the way. If you don’t want me there, I will wait outside for you. If you don’t want to look, I’ll cover your eyes. If you can’t say the words, I will be your voice. Just _please_ Brienne. You owe it to yourself. I know you’re afraid, but...” She turned around and looked up at him, but didn’t say anything. He carefully stepped closer. “I know you’re afraid,” he repeated, more calmly. “But it will be different this time, alright?” Her voice betrayed that she was tired of fighting him.  
  
“They won’t listen," she said.   
  
“They _will_. We will _make_ them listen. Please, you have to stop hiding.”  
  
“I’m not hiding,” she lied. He scoffed at her words.  
  
“Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself?” She shook her head but didn’t speak. “You’ve been hiding in the dark for a long time, Brienne.” She slowly looked up at him.  
  
“I’m not afraid of the dark. In fact, it’s my safe place. Darkness and I, we go way back.” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but both of them knew it was the truest thing she had said all morning.  
  
“I know it’s scary.”  
  
“It’s not. Like I said. I’m not afraid of the dark. That’s not it.” Jaime frowned in confusion.  
  
“Then what is it?”  
  
“It’s the sudden burst of blinding light that scares me.” She sounded almost angry.  
  
“What? What light?”  
  
She looked away, half embarrassed, half something else, but couldn't stop herself from saying, "It's _you_ , alright?"   
  
_Nothing_. He said nothing.  
  
The silence was uncomfortable, unbearable, so Brienne quickly continued, “So first you won’t shut up and _now_ you’re quiet? That’s just great.” Jaime shuffled around, awkwardly and pointlessly. She’d said too much. Again.  
  
 _What the hell is wrong with me?  
  
_ Her voice was quiet and unconvincing when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean anything by it...” He moved passed it like she hadn’t said anything.  
  
“I will help you, if you just-”  
  
“I’ll think about it,” she cut him off.  
  
“Brienne, there’s no time to-”  
  
“I said I’ll think about it. Coffee?”  
  
  
They drank their coffee and ate their breakfast in silence again, but Jaime didn’t need to move his mouth to tell her what he was thinking. She wished he could just shut up. Shut up with those piercing blue eyes, telling her ‘You know I’m right’.  
  
When Jaime got out of the shower a little while later and joined her again, Brienne’s lip was swollen from chewing on it too harshly. He stood behind her, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. Brienne’s thoughts were screaming. Her mind was in chaos.  
  
“Brienne, I need you to tell me what you want me to do.” She couldn’t bear to look at him and closed her eyes, hoping the right words would appear before her.  
  
 _Stay_ , she wanted to say. _Stay with me_.  
  
“I think...” she said, but her voice drifted off. Her thoughts were still ringing in her head.  
  
 _Please_. _Stay_.  
  
“I think you should...” _  
  
Stay_. _  
  
Stay_.  
  
“I think you should go.” As soon as she’d said the words, her mind went quiet, like her infinite fall into a deep dark well had finally come to an end when she crashed on the bottom.  
  
 _Oh no. What have I done_? Brienne could only imagine how incredibly confusing it must be, having to put up with her. Part of her wished he would just give up already. Surely they both knew that whatever _this_ was, it wasn’t going to last. Sooner or later she would scare him away. It was just a matter of time, really.   
  
His voice was different than she had expected when he spoke, but what he said surprised her even more.  
  
“I don’t believe you.”  
  
“What?” She was too confused to remember that she was afraid. He walked up to the table, turned one of the chairs around to face her and sat down.  
  
“Look me in the eye and say that again. Tell me you want me to leave.” Brienne blinked at him – once, twice, three times. “Say it,” he urged.  
  
“Jaime, I-”  
  
“Go on.” She frowned, trying to reproduce the words that she had just spoken. But they were gone.  
  
“I… I want...” He leaned forward, staring deeper into her eyes.  
  
“Remember last night’s Brienne? The one who let me in? She was strong. She didn’t push me away – she trusted me. What happened to her? Please Brienne, reach inside and find that other version of you and show me this is _you_ talking and not your fear. I know she’s in there, I can see it in your eyes. If _that_ Brienne wants me to leave, all you have to do, is say the words one more time. Tell me, ‘Jaime, I want you to leave’.”  
  
“I want…”  
  
If only she could look away from him. If only she could tear her gaze off the endless evening sky in his eyes. If only she could stop drowning. He was luring her into the trap of his trust.  
  
She should fight it. She should just look away and not give in. But she couldn’t do it. Brienne shook her head, tears stinging behind her eyes.  
  
“I don’t,” she said. “I don’t want you to leave.”  
  
Brienne wasn’t sure if what she saw in his eyes was relief, or if it was just her imagination. He leaned back and the weight of her struggle seemed to be lifted from the space between them. Brienne breathed the last of the tension out and said, “But do you really have to be such an _ass_ about it?” Jaime laughed and got up to put the towel away. Then he grabbed his bag off the floor and put on his shoes.  
  
“Come on, let’s go,” he said.  
  
“Go? Where to?” He gave her a mischievous smile over his shoulder.  
  
“You’ll see. There is something I want to show you. Bring your bag.” Brienne changed her shirt and put on her shoes, feeling half scared and half excited. When she joined him in the hallway, he asked, “Are you ready?” Brienne bit her lip.  
  
“Actually… There is somewhere I need to go first. If you don’t mind.” Jaime gave her a surprised look.

“Of course. Where am I taking you?”  
  
It took a while for her to answer, but eventually, she said, “To the police station.”  
  
  
Jaime had waited for her outside, as she had requested, and when she walked out, he was so happy to see her that he had to stop himself from taking her into his arms. She didn’t say anything when she walked up to him. She didn’t look like she had been crying. She didn’t look scared.  
  
“How did it go?” he asked as they got in the car.  
  
“Fine,” she replied. Before he started the engine he looked at her.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yep.” Jaime sighed.  
  
“You’re not going to talk about this with me, are you?”  
  
“No.” He tried to hide his disappointment behind the low rumble of the car's engine. “Not yet,” she added, letting their eyes meet for little more than a second before she quickly looked away again. But it was alright; it was enough.  
  
Brienne recognised the track through the Kingswood from the last time she was there, when she was in the back of a taxi.  
  
“You’re taking me to your home? That’s what you want to show me? Forgive me if I seem a little underwhelmed. It’s not as impressive the second time.” Jaime gave her a mysterious smile.  
  
“The Kingswood is a lot bigger than just my house, you know.”  
  
“Okay, so it’s not your house. Then what is it? Where are you taking me?”  
  
“You’ll see,” he replied. Brienne growled like a moody dog. She hated surprises.  
  
Not long after that, they went down a rather bumpy road and Brienne was reminded of the way they got tossed around in her car when they drove through the field a few weeks earlier. She looked away so that Jaime wouldn't see her smiling like an idiot. He stopped the car in front of a fallen tree and turned off the engine. Brienne looked around. They were in the middle of the woods and she could only see one tiny pathway leading through the tall, dark trees.  
  
“Have you brought me here to kill me? Because I’m not ready to die yet,” she said as she stared up at the trees through the car window. Jaime chuckled.  
  
“I’m not going to kill you.”  
  
“That’s what they all say... Before they kill you.” Jaime got out and opened her door for her. She gave him an incredibly suspicious look.  
  
“I hope you’re up for a little hike.” Brienne rolled her eyes and got out of the car, but when she reached back to get her bag, Jaime said, “You won’t be needing that. Trust me,” and then he turned around and headed for the narrow pathway between the trees.  
  
“Yeah I’m starting to think that was not such a great idea,” she muttered under her breath.  
  
The hike was about 30 minutes. They were so far into the woods by now, that it seemed to be the only thing on earth. Every once in a while, Jaime would look behind him and ask if she was okay, and every time she would snap, “I’m fine,” and he would shrug and turn around again. The last part was the hardest. They had to cross a stream and climb a hill to get to their destination.  
  
“We’re almost there,” Jaime said after Brienne had tripped over a rock and fell on her knees and they spent minutes debating whether she was fine or not.  
  
“This better be good," she replied. "I wouldn’t be surprised if we fall off the edge of the earth when we reach that top.” By the time she had finished talking, Jaime had already climed to the top, and waited for her with a strange grin on his face.  
  
“Come on, what’s taking you so long? Get your butt up here. I thought you were an athlete.” Brienne raised her eyebrows, deeply offended.  
  
“Yes, well, it wouldn’t take me so long if you had told me from the beginning that I’d be climbing a fucking mountain and you would have let me…” Her voice was swallowed by the spring breeze. “Wow,” she said quietly. “Jaime, this is amazing...”  
  
He had taken her to a place so beautiful that for a moment, she thought she was dreaming. Even though they were in the middle of the woods, there was an enormous field full of bright red poppies, reaching all the way down the hill, up to the lake down in the valley.  
  
“Remember how you said that the darkness is your safe place?” Jaime asked. Brienne was too astonished by the world around her to speak, so she merely nodded. “Well, I thought it was only fair to show you mine. This is _my_ safe place.” Brienne felt the breeze ruffling through her hair and the warm sun kissing her cheeks. “Not bad, huh?” Jaime asked. Brienne finally found her voice again.  
  
“Not bad? Jaime, this is incredible.” She paused to study his face from the side. He had his eyes closed and was drinking in the wideness of the world and all it's wonders. “Thank you for taking me here,” she added. Jaime turned his head to look at her and smiled.  
  
“You’re very welcome. I wanted to show you something outside of that darkness you know so well.” Brienne huffed.  
  
“Well, mission accomplished.”  
  
Jaime took her further down the hill to a patch of grass just big enough for the two of them to sit down without killing the flowers. Brienne was still in awe of the beauty surrounding her. She observed how the flowers, that had only just started to bloom, swayed in the wind. Beautiful, warm red poppies and tiny daisies growing in their shade, hiding beneath the poppies' petals like a child under an umbrella. The further she looked, the more it seemed like the wind created waves in an ocean of red. It was so quiet she could almost hear the blades of grass sing, as the wind rubbed them together. High above them, two birds of prey danced through the sky, sending their calls and screeches echoing through the hills. For a moment, she felt at peace with the world. The sort of peace she hadn't felt in a very long time.  
  
After a little while, Brienne started feeling like she was being watched. She scanned across the edge of the field, where the trees met the flowers and the tall green grass, but there was no one she could see. Perhaps it was just a deer. Or maybe a fox.  
  
“You know,” Jaime said quietly, turning her attention back to him, “This place is big enough for the two of us. You could let it be your safe place, too.” Brienne looked at him and when their eyes met, she almost had to gasp for air. Was it the sun? The red of the flowers? Maybe it was the blue of the sky or the green of the trees, but something sparked in his eyes and whatever it was, it made it hard for Brienne to breathe.  
  
“I’d like that,” she said eventually. Then she looked around again. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve never seen so many beautiful flowers in my life.” Jaime smiled at her.  
  
“And to think, they were right here all along. All you had to do, was know where to look.”  
  
Brienne turned away for a moment, but then looked back over her shoulder at him and said, “Or find someone to show you the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, I just want to say a quick thank you, to let you know that I appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to read this story. 
> 
> THANK YOU!!
> 
> There we go. That's all :).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep me - Elliot Ziegler

Brienne lay on her back between the poppies, watching soft, pillowy clouds drifting through the uncaring sky. She imagined that if the gods were real, they’d be sleeping on those clouds right now, perfectly content. She wasn’t the religious type, but being surrounded by such beauty, feeling high on serenity, she could _almost_ believe.  
  
They spent almost an hour in absolute silence. Neither of them spoke a single word; their minds and mouths were quiet, but their hearts sang on the inside. Jaime was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, observing the waves of wind dancing through the field, until Brienne pointed up at the sky.  
  
“Look," she said, turning to face him. "The stars are coming out." Jaime smiled and hummed and when their gazes locked, all the world went quiet. There was no sound left outside of his own heartbeat and a sizzling desire to kiss her. He turned to his side and slowly reached over to touch her face, and for the first time, she didn’t flinch, but let him gently remove some dry grass from her hair. His fingers lingered against her temple and then brushed her hair behind her ear, trailing down her neck, his gaze following along. Without realising it, he wet his lips. She never looked away, not even for a second.  
  
One afternoon in the golden light of the sun had been enough to paint her nose and cheeks with new, bronze freckles. Jaime reluctantly pulled his hand back and tore his gaze away from her.  
  
They watched the sun set until Brienne suddenly sat up and said, “We should probably head back. It will be dark soon and we need to be able to find the car.” Jaime grinned.  
  
“Well, well… Who would’ve thought! She _is_ afraid of the dark!” Brienne frowned at him, mainly annoyed.  
  
“I’m not afraid. I just don’t want to spend the night out in the cold because _you_ will get us lost.” Jaime huffed and rolled onto his back again.  
  
“Please. I can find my way through these woods with my eyes closed.”  
  
“Hmmm-hm,” she replied, “Sure you can.”  
  
“It’s true! Besides; the best is yet to come. We’ll be fine, I promise. It’s a clear night, I brought a flashlight; we’ll be fine.” Brienne rolled her eyes.  
  
“So you’ve said.”  
  
Then he rested his hand gently on hers and said, “Trust me… Remember?” She frowned at him again, weighing his words, but she lost her battle against the urge to smile.  
  
He wasn’t kidding. The best really _was_ yet to come. The stars were so bright that the sky didn’t go any darker than Brienne’s fears. She could still see the flowers, the trees, the lake below in the valley. And Jaime.  
  
They lay side by side in the grass and Jaime realised he had never been this comfortable in shared silence. He always felt the need to talk, to keep people entertained. But with Brienne, it was different. With her, _everything_ was different. He turned his head to look at her, and she did the same.  
  
 _I wish I could tell her that_ , he thought.  
  
“I’ve never seen the stars so bright before,” she murmured.  
  
 _I have_ , he thought. _I see them every time I look at you_.  
  
He kept his thoughts to himself though.  
  
Instead, he said “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” and she hummed in agreement.  
  
A little while later Jaime suggested that they’d head back.  
  
As they carefully waded through the darkness, Brienne said, “Out of all the ways I expected to die, this has never crossed my mind.” Jaime sighed, pretending to be annoyed.  
  
“What is it _this_ time?” he asked.  
  
“Getting lost in the woods in the middle of the night. And then dying because of it.”  
  
“We’re not lost, you’re not going to die and it’s _not_ the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, you say that _now,_ ” she replied. Jaime shook his head, smiling.   
  
As they made their way downhill, Brienne was revisited by the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. More than that, it felt like someone was following them. She hated to admit it to herself, but she found herself staying awfully close to Jaime - just in case. When he gave her a suspicious look over his shoulder, she merely raised her eyebrows in a look that said ‘Can I help you?’ and rudely urged him to keep going.  
  
It felt like they had only been walking for a few minutes when she recognised the narrow path that would lead back to Jaime’s car.  
  
“See? I told you I would get us back?” His voice overflowed with self-satisfaction. She didn’t reply, but covered her smile under the veil of night.  
  
  
It felt strange to be back at Jaime’s house. Strange, but also oddly familiar. Jaime proved to be a brilliant cook, making a three course meal from scratch. After dinner, they traded their red wine for cocktails. It took a few minutes of arguing about how uptight Brienne was, before she gave in.  
  
“This is actually really good,” she admitted, sipping from her second glass as they sat down near the fire. “And there’s not a lot of alcohol in it, right?” The darkness kept Jaime’s grin hidden from her.  
  
“No,” he lied. “Not really.” She nodded and looked up at the stars.  
  
“You truly have an incredible place here, Jaime,” she said. “I think this is my favourite part of the house.”  
  
“Hmm... I wouldn’t be too sure about that. You haven’t seen everything yet.” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.  
  
“Why? What else is there? Do you have a room full of gold?” Jaime frowned at her and then laughed.  
  
“Honestly woman, where do you get these crazy ideas?” Brienne shrugged and attempted to take off her cardigan.  
  
“It’s pretty warm tonight isn’t it?” she said as Jaime watched her struggle with pulling her arm through the sleeve. The flickering flames lit up her rosy cheeks. “So if it’s not a room full of gold, then what is it?” Jaime got up, refilled her glass and then held his hand out to her.  
  
“I’ll show you.”  
  
It was the first time he had taken her upstairs and Brienne felt like she was about to discover some great treasure when he led her to a room with an impressive double door. As he opened it, Brienne squinted her eyes to see into the darkness. Then Jaime turned the lights on and her mouth fell open.  
  
The room was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows opposite the door, and walls full of books on either side. A beautiful grand piano decorated the left side of the room and in the middle, there was a massive rug of pale blue and gold on the hardwood floor. To the right, Brienne could see an enormous sofa of dark blue velvet in front of a marble fireplace. It was like stepping into a museum that took her back centuries and halfway across the world.  
  
“Was is this place?” she asked, not even trying to hide how mesmerised she was.  
  
“This is my um… Actually… I’m not quite sure what it is. My library, art- and music-room… thing.” Brienne felt hazy, like she was half asleep, waltzing through a dream. Jaime followed her as she slowly walked further into the room, letting her fingers glide over the edge of the piano as she looked around before she sat down on the piano stool.  
  
“Play me something,” he said. Brienne slowly opened the fallboard and stared at the instrument.  
  
“I don’t know...” she replied, feeling the pull of the cold keys, the attraction of music and the way it called her. Then Jaime sat down next to her and when their legs touched, she looked up at him with surprise. Up until now, he had been so careful with her, feeling how she wanted to keep him at a distance and respecting the space she demanded. Yet somewhere along the way, something had changed and now he was so close to her that Brienne could see his slow and steady pulse in his neck.  
  
 _He's too close.  
  
Right?  
  
Is he?_  
  
Brienne swallowed as she felt a strange sensation in her stomach. Then her head started spinning and she tried to get up, but Jaime grabbed her hand.  
  
“Don’t go, please,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”  
  
 _You have no idea_ , she thought. _Every second of being so close to you hurts_ _me_ _.  
  
_ She could feel her heart starting to feel something she thought it had no right to feel. Something it _shouldn't._ Her mind told her it wasn’t right, that it was a trap and that it would never work. The voices in her head were hissing at her that, after everything that happened with Roose, she shouldn’t feel this way, about anyone.  
  
 _He wants to be my friend_ , she thought. _He made that very clear. Don’t fuck this up_.  
  
Finally she turned around, his warm hand still secure around her wrist.  
  
“I know. That’s not it.” He frowned, confused.  
  
“Then what is?” She looked down at him. His eyes seemed darker than usual, his skin almost glowed in the dim light. She couldn’t remember the last time she had met someone who was so incredibly attractive. Still, she couldn’t blame him for what she was feeling. She could only blame herself. And it was wrong to feel this way.  
  
“I’m… I just...” Jaime didn’t expect her to finish her sentence, but instead, patted on the empty seat next to him. She looked back and forth between him and the stool and eventually sat back down. “I guess one song won’t hurt. Let’s see if I remember anything...” Her mind was foggy, from drinking a lot more than she was used to, from fighting the urge to keep him close, from battling her desires and all the expectations and demands she placed upon herself.  
  
It took about a minute for Brienne to be able to start playing. For some reason, her heart was beating incredibly fast. She gulped down half of her drink and let her fingers glide over the keys, like they had to regain some sort of connection. Then she took a deep breath and for the first time in a long time, she started playing. Every note she played carried through the room like oxygen through the air. The soothing power of music seemed to reach every crevice of the room, from the lines in the floor to the fibres of the rug and from the glass on the chandelier to every forgotten book on the shelves. Some notes were sloppy, some parts were rusty, but Jaime did not seem to notice. Or at least he didn’t seem to mind.  
  
“It’s called _Keep me_ ,” she said when she finished. “Did you like it?” He nodded slowly.  
  
“I loved it. Thank you.” There was a short silence in which they were afraid to let their eyes meet, until Jaime continued, “I can’t believe you remembered the entire piece.”  
  
She leaned towards him and whispered, “Mmmmuscle memory. That’s the secret.” Brienne was starting to think the cocktails might have been a little heavier on the alcohol than Jaime had let on. As soon as she stood up and the room started to sway from left to right, she knew she'd had too much to drink. Jaime watched her walk around the room, studying the paintings on the walls.  
  
“I love art,” she confessed. “You wouldn’t say so, but I do. I really do.”  
  
“Me too,” Jaime replied, but she ignored him.  
  
“I mean look at this. Isn’t this amazing? I have no fucking clue who she is but look how fierce she looks! Like a lioness, you know?” Jaime chuckled.  
  
“Sure,” he agreed.  
  
“And what about those amazing spikes on the shoulder pads?! Do you know what you could do with those? You could just stick an orange up there, leave it there, you know it’s there...”  
  
“An orange?” Jaime asked, confused.  
  
“You could really make someone photograph you with the...” She turned around to Jaime, who was calmly observing her showing him exactly _how_ one could photograph you with an orange and spiky shoulder pads. Then she must have realised she wasn’t making a lot of sense, because she rubbed hand over her forehead and added, “Never mind... God, I think I had a bit too much to drink. I want to go outside. Can we go outside?”  
  
A few minutes later they found themselves back under the starry night’s sky, watching the flames of the fire sending ghosts of smoke up into the air. Brienne started yawning and Jaime could see how her eyes began to droop.  
  
“I think you should go to bed,” Jaime suggested. Brienne looked up at him.  
  
“You lied to me,” she said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You lied. You said there wasn’t much alcohol in your drinks, but there was.” She was definitely tipsy and to be fair, Jaime’s mind wasn’t the clearest it’s ever been either.  
  
“Sorry about that.” She merely grunted a reply, leaving Jaime unsure if she was mad or okay with it. “But you lied to me too.” Her gaze slowly met his, but she didn’t speak. “You told me nothing happened. Why? Why did you lie to me?”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
Jaime noticed how he sounded almost angry, feeling the release of finally getting to ask the question that had been burning in his soul for weeks now.  
  
“The morning after you took me home. I know that I kissed you. Why didn’t you tell me?” Brienne sat up straight but didn't look at him.  
  
“I um… I don’t really remember….” Jaime snorted.  
  
“Oh don’t give me that. You _do_ remember. I know you do. Is that it? Do you wish it hadn’t happened? Are you _trying_ to forget? I’m sorry, alright? I really am. I was drunk and stupid and hurt and I shouldn’t have done it.” Brienne clenched her jaw, still refusing to look at him.  
  
“No, that’s not it.” Suddenly Jaime grabbed her arm and made her turn around to face him.  
  
“Then what is it, Brienne? I asked you if you were afraid and you said ‘no’. I asked you if something happened between us and you said ‘ _no_ ’. So what is the truth?” She rolled her eyes and pulled free.  
  
“I don’t know, okay? I just didn’t want you to regret it or think that I wanted anything from you and I thought it would be easier.”  
  
“Easier for whom? Me or you?” The annoyance in her voice slammed into him.  
  
“Jaime, _I don’t know._ Just leave it. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t mean anything. We can just forget about it.” He shook his head.  
  
“If it didn’t mean anything, then why didn’t you tell you me? We are supposed to be friends, Brienne. Friends don’t lie to one another.”  
  
“Well, this was _before_ we were friends. And it didn’t mean anything. It was just a kiss. You were drunk.” The words stung in his soul more than a thousand bees ever could.  
  
“ _Just_ a kiss?” Jaime repeated, his heart pounding in his chest.  
  
“Yes, and it didn’t mean anything. People kiss all the time.”  
  
“Yeah, but _you_ don’t.” He could see some kind of resistance flash in her eyes, before she took his face in her hands and kissed him full on the lips. Jaime was too overwhelmed to kiss her back. Then she pushed him away again and got up.  
  
“See? Just a kiss. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m going to bed. Good night.” And with that, she left.  
  
  
Jaime waited forever for Brienne to come out of her room in the morning, and he knew why that was. It was almost noon when he decided to go to her room and knock on the door.  
  
“Brienne? Are you awake?” She didn’t answer, but he could hear her on the other side of the door. “Brienne… We need to talk. Please.” Nothing.  
  
After a few more long seconds of silence, he turned around to walk away, but then he saw her shadow move in the crack under the door, right before it slowly opened. By the time Jaime had pushed it open en walked in, Brienne had already walked over to the window on the opposite side of the room.  
  
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” she said with her back turned to him. “I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry. I had too much to drink.” Jaime shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it.  
  
“You don’t have to apologise. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. But Brienne, I realised something. I lied to you too.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, part worried and part suspicious.  
  
“About the drinks?” He shook his head again.  
  
“No. I lied, when I told you we could be friends. I don’t think we can.” Brienne felt her chest slowly ripping in two.   
  
_See?_ she heard a voice in her head say. _I knew you’d find a way to fuck this up. Well done. Bravo to you_.  
  
She turned her head away from him.  
  
“It’s okay. I understand.” Jaime walked around the bed until he was just a few feet away from her.  
  
“Actually, I don’t think you do,” he said. “I can’t be you friend, because… Because it’s not enough.” Jaime could see her back stiffen and was almost too afraid to breathe. It felt like the entire room was made of glass and one wrong move would made the whole thing shatter to pieces. “It’s not enough, Brienne. I’m sorry. I know this is not what you want and I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, but… I don’t know. Will you please look at me?”  
  
“Jaime, I-” He gathered all of his courage and took her hand to place it on his chest.  
  
“I _need_ to know. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel what I feel. It hurts to be away from you, Brienne. And it hurts when I’m near you because I want to kiss you and I want to touch you but I also promised not to hurt you and I-”  
  
“Can you just… Shut up… for one second?” Brienne said. All she had to do was give into him. Let go. She could do it.  
  
But she didn’t. Instead, she gently pushed him away. “Whatever it is that you _think_ you feel… I’m sure you’re wrong. Trust me, you don’t want this.” She turned away from him.  
  
“But I do, I _do_ want this. All of it.” Brienne shook her head.  
  
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”  
  
“I _do_ know. Brienne, I don’t know what I have to do to convince you. And I’m so, _so_ sorry, truly… I wish I could change things. I wish I could be your friend if that’s what you want me to be, but... Part of me thinks that you might feel the same way. _Hopes_ that you feel it too. Tell me you don’t feel it too?”  
  
“I don’t,” she lied. “I… I can’t.”  
  
“You _can_ , though. Let your heart be free again. Let it _feel_ again. I want to be your friend, I really do, but it’s not enough. I want more.” He violently shook his head. “And I hate myself for being so selfish. And I hate that I kissed you like that, but it’s all I’ve been thinking about and if that makes me an awful person, then so be it.” She sighed.  
  
“It doesn’t. It’s just… With everything that’s going on...” Jaime cupped her face and rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks.  
  
“I know, I know that. And like I said, I don’t want to pressure you into anything. But can you swear to me that that kiss meant nothing? That _this_ means nothing?” She looked down, still avoiding his eyes, knowing that if she’d meet his, she’d lose. She’d be lost. “All I want is to hear you say that you’ll try. That you’ll give us a chance and I will wait a lifetime for anything more than that, if I have to.”  
  
Brienne sighed deeply and said, “Do you remember when you told me how some people are just meant to be friends and nothing more? Maybe that’s us. Why ruin a good thing? A good friendship.” Jaime groaned in frustration.  
  
“Brienne, come on, we were never just friends. If you truly believe that, you have to get your head out of your ass.” His world stopped turning when she finally allowed him to drown in the sapphire ocean of her eyes.  
  
“I don’t know… Maybe it’s just not the right time,” she said, but he could tell that the strength in her voice was leaving her. She couldn’t fight it any longer and Jaime felt a fire rising in his chest that seemed to be feeding his very soul, making him stronger by the second. “I don’t know if I have any room for something like this when I’m facing a war on my own.” Just by the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes, he knew what she was talking about.  
  
“But you’re not on your own. I promised you we’d take him down together and I intend to keep that promise. Just please, Brienne, my heart is aching… Tell me you’ll go out with me. Tell me you’re willing to try.”  
  
Alarms were going off inside her head, warning her not to fall for it. Reminding her it was a trap, it wasn’t real, she’d only end up being lost and hurt and broken.  
  
 _It’s not worth it_ , the voices screamed, _he’s only using you_.  
  
She wished she could explain to him what was going on in her mind, how hard it was and how confusing.  
  
 _Don’t do it_ , the voices continued. _You’re just a game to him, that's all you'll ever be, to anyone_.  
  
Suddenly, somewhere deep inside, a window opened in her soul, and she found a way to let the voices out without letting them win. For the first time in a very long time, she let the broken pieces of her heart back into the light, when she said, “Okay... Yes, I’ll go out with you. But promise me we’ll take it slow. Really slow.” Jaime smiled and pulled her into a tight embrace, forgetting all the times she flinched and backed away from his touches. Even though her muscles tensed as his arms wrapped around her, and her head filled with voices telling her to push him away, she was strong enough to let him try and prove them wrong.  
  
“I promise,” he said.  
  
  
The week went by quickly and smoothly, like water rushing through the riverbed. On Wednesday they had lunch together with Margaery and Renly, which was equally weird and fun. When Margaery suggested they'd all go on a dinner date soon, Brienne cringed beyond belief, but Jaime seemed so excited, that she decided to smile and pretend to think it was a great idea. Not long after that, Margaery asked them if they were officially together now, to which Brienne almost choked on a slice of cucumber and turned her head away, blushing. Jaime grabbed her hand under the table.  
  
“We’re taking it slow,” he explained. Margaery huffed.  
  
“Slow? Oh darling, take it any slower than this and you’ll be moving backwards.” They all exchanged looks for a second and then started laughing. Brienne played along, pretending Margaery hadn’t just put her biggest worry into words.  
  
They didn’t spend much time together that week. Brienne and Renly were working on a big project and had to stay late almost every day. Jaime had convinced Brienne to let Renly in on the whole Bolton-situation, without going too much into detail. Renly practically never left her side after that, and Brienne wondered if Jaime might have threatened him when she wasn't paying attention.  
  
Because they were taking things slow, they had agreed to only meet up on the weekends. Jaime didn’t know what was worse: being away from her, or being close to her but unable to kiss or touch her.  
  
Brienne had blinked a couple of times and suddenly, it was Saturday evening. Jaime had made dinner reservations at _The Red Keep_ , a rather fancy restaurant built with pale red stones. Brienne had changed her outfit six times over the last hour and a half. Every time she was convinced this was really the look, she’d catch her reflection from a different angle and decide she looked like a giraffe dressing up as a peacock, and it wasn’t a good look. She showered twice: once to get ready and the second time to rid herself of the smell of fear. She could feel the anxiety seeping through her pores and it _stank_. Eventually she settled on a simple, dark blue dress made of silk, that her father had given her years ago. It was the only dress she owned that didn’t make her feel trapped. When she looked outside, she saw dark clouds rising. These damned spring storms. They were almost as bad as the ones on Tarth. She smiled at the memory of Tarth and then quickly gathered her things and left her apartment.  
  
The waiter escorted her to a table near the window, overlooking the harbour. Even with the raging wind and torrential rain, the view was beautiful. It had been years since she found herself in a place as fancy as this and to be honest, it wasn’t really her thing. Some of the other guests gave her an awkward stare every now and then, because she was alone, but having to wait for Jaime gave her time to calm her heart rate down.  
  
At least, that’s what she had hoped.  
  
She checked her phone a couple of times, but he hadn’t messaged her. She texted him to ask him what was taking him so long, but he didn’t reply.  
  
Thirty minutes passed.  
  
An hour. No sign of Jaime.  
  
She called him, but he didn’t answer. Brienne looked around the restaurant.  
  
 _All these happy couples_. _You stupid fool._ _Did you really think you could be one of them?_ _You idiot. He doesn’t love you. He's just finally come to his senses, but doesn't know how to tell you. F_ _ucking coward_ _.  
  
_ After almost an hour and a half of waiting in vain, she paid for her drinks, apologised for not ordering anything else, and left.  
  
As soon as she got home, she got out of her ridiculous dress and shoved it in a drawer before taking another long shower, almost hot enough to burn her embarrassment and anger away. Then she took her misery to bed and turned off the lights, to let herself and her pain be swallowed by the darkness she knew so well.  
  
  
It was very early in the morning when he started calling her. Once, twice, three times, but Brienne rejected the call every time.  
  
The fourth time, she told her phone, “Stop calling me. I don’t want to hear your excuses,” and buried it under the pillows. A little while later, it rang again, but this time, it wasn’t Jaime, but someone whose phone number she didn't recognise. It took her so long to decide if she wanted to answer or not, that she was almost too late when she did.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Is this Brienne?” The man’s voice was in no way familiar to her. Brienne waited a few seconds, almost as if she had to think about his question.  
  
“Who is this?” she asked.  
  
“I’m sorry to disturb you this early. My name is Tyrion. Tyrion Lannister. I’m Jaime’s brother.” Something in his voice made a fist of worry clench around her heart.  
  
“Oh,” Brienne said. “Is everything alright?” It took a long moment for him to reply.  
  
“Actually… No, it’s not.” Brienne could barely hear him over the sound of her heart racing. “It’s Jaime. There’s been an accident. I’m sorry...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh.... Not again....


	13. Chapter 13

As Brienne drove to the hospital, she kept going over the conversation she had with Tyrion.  
  
“What kind of accident?” she had asked him.  
  
“A car crash. Something made him lose control over the vehicle and he crashed into a tree.” She needed a couple of seconds to let the words sink in.  
  
“Is he… Did he...”  
  
“He’s alive,” Tyrion had said. “But he’s in pretty bad shape. I think he’d want you to be here when he wakes up.”  
  
“Me?” she’d asked. “Why me?”  
  
“I have to go, the doctor’s here. He’s in the Arthur Dayne Memorial Hospital. I’ll see you there.” And he was gone.  
  
Brienne stayed in her car for almost 20 minutes before she found the strength to get out. She hadn’t been to a hospital since her father had died and it was something she could do without. When she entered the ICU, the smell of disinfectant and people fighting for their lives made Brienne feel sick.  
  
“Hi, sorry, I’m looking for Jaime Lannister?” she said when she arrived at the nurses’ station.  
  
“Are you a family member?”  
  
“Oh, no, I’m um...”  
  
“She’s his girlfriend,” a voice came from behind her. Brienne turned around to find a very little man, with dark golden hair and an even darker beard. His eyes were what made her recognise him.  
  
“Tyrion?” she asked. She hadn’t had much time to imagine what Jaime’s younger brother would look like, but she definitely didn’t think he’d be so… Well, so _short_.  
  
“Hello Brienne. We’ve been expecting you. If you’ll follow me, please.”  
  
“We?” she asked, but he didn’t hear her and so Brienne gave the nurse a polite nod and followed Tyrion down the bright corridor.  
  
“Oh my god, Jaime...” she said from the doorway. He was an absolute mess. The left side of his face was bruised and swollen under a thick white bandage and his nose and mouth were hidden behind an oxygen mask. The way he lay there, motionless, soundless, unnaturally straight and hooked up to all these machines, sent a shiver down her spine.  
  
Tyrion looked back at her and said, “Come on in.”  
  
“I thought they only allowed two visitors?” Tyrion nodded.  
  
“Yes. You and me. That’s two.” Brienne blinked, confused, looking from him to Jaime and back.  
  
“But what about your family? Your parents?” she asked.  
  
“I’m all the family he needs right now. And you, of course. Come, sit.” He gestured towards the chair on the other side of the bed. Brienne watched how he had to pull himself up on the chair and how his feet dangled above the floor before she slowly sat down.  
  
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Tyrion shrugged.  
  
“Who knows… He’s in a medically induced coma right now, because of the swelling in his brain. He cracked two ribs and broke his leg in three places.” Brienne made a painful face and took a sharp breath in through her teeth. “Yeah,” Tyrion agreed, “And then there’s his hand. But that’s nothing if his brain is… You know.” There were a thousand questions buzzing through Brienne’s mind, but none of them found their way to her voice.  
  
After a little while, Tyrion jumped down from the chair, declared he had to make some phone calls, and left the room. The silence was overwhelming. There was nothing but the soft rattling noise of the machines. Brienne stared at Jaime’s face, so hurt and yet so peaceful. Then she was overcome by shame and guilt, for assuming he had stood her up, and for not trying harder to get in touch with him. She imagined that he was on his way to the restaurant when she called him, and that _she_ was the reason why he got distracted and lost control of the car. Her stomach twisted at the thought.  
  
“Hey you,” she whispered, before leaning forward and carefully taking his hand, afraid to hurt him. With her other hand, she gently brushed her fingers against his cheek. It was the only part of his face that she could touch.  
  
The nurse who came in a little later, adjusted his pillows with a calm and care that made Brienne almost envious.  
  
“There you go, mister Lannister,” she said in a voice as rich and sweet as cherry pie, “I hope this is comfortable for you. I hear the Wildings are up against the Krakens tomorrow afternoon. I’ll make sure to let you know what happens.” She turned to Brienne and graced her with a smile, before she added, “I understand he’s a big baseball fan.” Brienne ignored her attempt at small talk.  
  
“Can he hear us?” she asked. The nurse shrugged.  
  
“We don’t know for certain, but I always think it’s worth the try. Besides, would you like to be completely ignored all the time, like you’re not even there? I think it’s rather rude, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
When Tyrion returned, Brienne said, “Earlier in the corridor, you told the nurse I’m Jaime’s…” She glanced over at Jaime as if to make sure he wasn’t listening. “His girlfriend. I um… I’m not. We’re not together.” Tyrion’s face twisted into a disturbingly familiar grin.  
  
“If that’s your story,” he said. Brienne raised her eyebrows, forgetting for a moment that it wasn’t Jaime talking, but his brother.  
  
 _Being annoying must be a famil_ _y_ _trait,_ she thought.  
  
“Why did you call me?” Tyrion turned his head to Jaime and gave him a sad smile as if he were awake to see it.  
  
“He’s a big fool, my brother. I always wanted to be as tall as he was, you know, when we were kids. Now I think being tall comes at a price.” He paused dramatically and then added, “Your _sanity_. Anyway, he’s a talker, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Brienne nodded, remembering all the times she had rolled her eyes at his constant babbling. “Well, when he’s not in a coma, that is,” Tyrion continued. “He’s been talking about you a lot. In fact, it’s pretty much all we’ve spoken about lately.” Brienne felt her cheeks go red, and of course it didn’t go unnoticed. “What, didn’t he tell you he calls his little brother, almost every evening?” Then he shook his head and added, “I should charge him for it, really.”  
  
“No,” Brienne replied, “He um… He never really mentions his family. Your family.” Tyrion nodded, turning his gaze back to his brother.  
  
“I wonder why,” he said, sarcastically. “You know, I didn’t expect you to be so tall.” Brienne huffed.  
  
“Well I didn’t expect you to be so short.” As soon as she’d said it, she felt bad, but before she could apologise, Tyrion chuckled and smiled at her.  
  
“Really? I guess he really _did_ never mention me, then.”  
  
  
In the days that followed, Brienne made sure to make the most of all the visiting hours. During her lunch breaks, she’d race to the hospital to spend a miserable 30 minutes by his side, and then she’d go back to work until she was allowed to go visit him again in the evening.  
  
At one point, one of the nurses was changing his IV bag when Brienne walked in.  
  
“Look who’s here, mister Lannister, it’s your wife,” she said with a warm smile. Brienne knew she should probably correct her, tell her that they weren’t even dating, but for some reason, she couldn’t get herself to do it.  
  
On Thursday, the doctors decided it was safe to start bringing him out of his coma and moved him to a different ward.  
  
“How long will it be before he wakes up?” Tyrion asked.  
  
“A few hours, a few days… That’s up to him,” the doctor replied. “He will wake up when he’s ready.” Brienne chewed on her lip.  
  
“But he _will_ wake up, right?” The doctor looked from Brienne to Jaime and back to Brienne.  
  
“We don’t have any reason to believe that he won’t.” When he left, Brienne turned to Tyrion.  
  
“What kind of answer is that?” she asked bitterly. Tyrion shrugged.  
  
“A doctor-kind of answer. Listen, Brienne, I have to go back to Casterly Rock for a couple of days. I have a wife and child and they need me. Besides, I could only get a few days off work.” Brienne blinked a few times.  
  
“Oh… Right…” she replied.  
  
“Now you keep an eye on him while I’m gone, alright? Anyway, I’m pretty sure he enjoys your company more than mine. Let me know if anything changes.”  
  
Brienne realised she had gotten used to Tyrion’s company and she’d even come to enjoy it. Now that he was leaving, it made her almost sad.  
  
“When will you be back?” she asked.  
  
Tyrion stood on his tiptoes to reach for his bag and grinned at her over his shoulder.  
  
“Oh, you know," he said, "When the time is right.”  
  
  
Days passed and Jaime still hadn’t woken up. Once or twice she thought he was about to, because he’d frown or move his hand, but every time it was a false alarm. One week after the accident, on Saturday, one of the nurses Brienne recognised from the ICU, was transferred to Jaime’s ward.  
  
“Well well, look who it is!” she said when she entered his room. “Mr and Mrs Lannister. I'd say it's lovely to see you again, but it really isn't.”  
  
“Oh, I’m not, we’re not...” Brienne stammered. “Married… or anything.” The girl looked up and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.  
  
“Or anything?” Brienne blushed and averted her eyes, but the young nurse continued, “Well, let me tell you something, mister Lannister, your not-wife-or-anything looks especially beautiful today. You don’t know what you’re missing!” Brienne gave her a flattered smile, even though she knew it was a lie. Between finishing the project at work, visiting Jaime in the hospital and worrying about him round the clock, she was exhausted and, well, it showed. There were dark circles under her eyes and she had barely eaten all week, because there was a knot of guilt and sorrow obstructing her throat.  
  
Thankfully, Jaime was starting to look a little less like he was on the verge of death – the swelling in his face was slowly going down, but he was still covered in splotchy green, grey and purple bruises. Still, Brienne enjoyed being able to see his face without the oxygen mask, and how every day he started to look more like himself again.  
  
She observed how the nurse changed the bandage around Jaime's head. She was quite a lot younger than Brienne, and definitely a lot shorter. Her voice was soft and sweet, and she had a friendly face.  
  
“Nurse?” Brienne asked. She didn’t look up from whatever she was doing, but merely hummed. “What’s your name? I mean, can you tell me your name? Everything around here is so impersonal, you know?” The young nurse casually tossed her hair over her shoulder, but it was too short to stay in place, and so smooth that it glided right back. Her hazel eyes were big and bright, framed by thick, long eyelashes and when she smiled at her, her lips revealed a tiny gap between her teeth.  
  
“My name is Jess,” she said. Brienne nodded.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Jess. My name is Brienne.” It was nice being able to talk to someone who would actually talk back. Most of the hospital staff barely even acknowledged her presence when they came to check on Jaime.  
  
  
The next day, Brienne suggested she could let Jaime listen to some music. Or rather, put the music on and hope that it would reach him, wherever he was. When the nurse told her it was okay, Brienne waited for her to leave and then carefully placed one earphone in Jaime’s ear and the other in her own. Then she took his hand and squeezed it.  
  
“ _Keep me_ , remember?” she whispered, as the notes sailed through her mind on ships of memories. “I really need to keep _you_ , Jaime. So please, just… Wake up, open your eyes. There are so many things we need to do, you know? So many fields we need to lie in, stars we need to gaze upon. If you can hear me, can you just, maybe squeeze my hand? I’m right here.” She looked down at his hand, tears burning behind her eyes, but his fingers remained awfully still.  
  
She needed him to wake up. To see him parading around the office like he was the president, to hear his laugh from the other side of the corridor, watch him bite his lip as he was showing off cooking some five-star meal. She wanted to roll her eyes at his insufferable behaviour again.  
  
“I promised you that I would give us a chance,” she said. “Now I need you to do the same, okay? Don’t give up on us.” She gently kissed his knuckles and each of his fingers.  
  
After that, she rested her head on her arm and let her silent tears flow, until her eyes were so tired from waves of worry and sorrow, that she drowned in sleep.  
  
“Brienne?” What a beautiful dream, a gift from the gods of sleep, just to hear him say her name, even though she couldn’t see him and his voice sounded incredibly far away, hoarse, dry and hollow. She smiled and leaned into the sound, allowing it to carry her away. “Brienne… Wake up.” She frowned. _Wake up?_ Then she opened her eyes.  
  
“Jaime?” she asked, still confused, looking around, trying to determine if she was still dreaming. “You’re awake? Oh my god, you’re awake! Nurse!” She was so excited that she didn’t even know how to behave. Without thinking about it, she stood up, cradled his head and kissed his cheek. “Thank god,” she said, fighting back the tears as she held him against her, “I’m so glad.” She drew back to call the nurse again, and then studied Jaime’s face. “How are you feeling?” she asked, looking deep into his eyes.  
  
There were no words to describe how it felt to look into those steel blue eyes again, even though they were tired and hazy, unable to focus on anything. Jaime looked around the room, blinking slowly. Then his eyes found hers and Brienne’s happiness started to fade. He seemed so lost.  
  
At last, the nurse entered the room and Jaime raised his head to look at her. Brienne sat down on one of the chairs against the wall.  
  
“Well, well,” Jess said, smiling. “Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence? Good evening sir, you’re in the Arthur Dayne Memorial Hospital. You were in a car accident, but you’ve been asleep for a while.” Jaime rested his bead back again and rubbed his throat. “Thirsty?” she asked as she held a cup of water out to him. He slowly lifted his right arm to take it from her, but then he saw the cast and clenched his jaw, perhaps confused or perhaps something else. Jess held the cup up to his mouth so he could drink from the straw. Judging from the look on his face, even swallowing was painful.  
  
“Good to have you back,” the young nurse said. “Are you feeling okay?” He glanced over at Brienne and frowned, but then slowly nodded.  
  
“Dizzy?” He nodded again.  
  
“Nauseous?” Jaime seemed to have to think about that for a moment, but eventually shook his head. “Good.” He turned his head away when she shone the penlight in his eyes.  
  
“That all seems fine. Do you remember your name?”  
  
He looked around again and then croaked, “Jaime.”  
  
“Very good. That one was easy though, do you know what year it is?”  
  
Jaime closed his eyes as if he had to search his mind for the right answer.  
  
“2020,” he said. Jess gave him a pleased smile.  
  
“Right.” She gestured over her shoulder towards Brienne. “And do you know who that is?” Jaime blinked at her, slowly.  
  
“Brienne."  
  
The sound of her name crashed into her soul with a force that could destroy an entire planet. Jaime continued to stare at Brienne as the nurse was registering something on the iPad.  
  
Suddenly, he asked, “Why are you here?” Brienne was taken aback by the question, and even Jess seemed surprised.  
  
“Well, I- I was...” Brienne stammered, looking back and forth between the nurse and him.  
  
“You never came,” Jaime continued, his voice still raw, but more powerful than before. Brienne blinked at him, confused.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I waited, but you never came.” He paused for a second and then added, “Oathkeeper.” Brienne’s mind was spinning. What was he talking about? Then she looked at Jess and suddenly realised what was happening.  
  
“You don’t remember...” she said quietly. Jess met her eyes with a look that seemed almost apologetic. “He doesn’t remember,” Brienne repeated. “This happened _weeks_ ago. We… a lot has changed since then.” Jess replied with a sad smile and walked over to her.  
  
“I understand,” she said. “Unfortunately memory loss is fairly common in these situations.” Brienne felt something heavy land on her chest with a deafening thud.  
  
“Memory loss?” she muttered, watching Jaime examine his injuries.  
  
“It’s called post-traumatic retrograde amnesia.” The words tumbled through Brienne’s mind.  
  
“Retrograde? What does that mean?”   
  
The nurse sat down next to Brienne and explained, “It means he can’t remember everything that happened before his accident.”  
  
“Oh… Will it pass?” Jess gave her a warm smile.  
  
“Probably, yes. But it could take days, weeks, months… I should call the doctor. Perhaps you should tell his family the good news.”  
  
Brienne could almost feel Tyrion’s relief through the phone when she told him Jaime had woken up. When she mentioned the amnesia, he didn’t seem to be too worried.  
  
“The last thing he remembers is that he was in a bar, waiting for me. He thinks I never showed up.” Tyrion huffed loudly.  
  
“How ironic,” he said.  
  
Brienne ignored him and continued, “He doesn’t remember anything after that. Weeks of his life… gone, just like that.”  
  
“I’m sure there are ways to trigger his memory though, right?” Tyrion asked. She was nervously pacing up and down the sitting area just outside the hospital ward. “Right?” Tyrion urged.  
  
“I guess, I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”  
  
“Then go ask someone who _is_. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Brienne rolled her eyes and bit back a groan, but before she could reply, he had already hung up. God, she barely knew the man, but it was clear to her that he could be just as insufferable as his brother.  
  
  
When Brienne arrived back at the hospital the next day, she found a tall, white-haired man sat with his back towards the door of Jaime's room. Jaime was fast asleep.  
  
She was so surprised to see this new visitor, that she found herself saying, “Who are you?” The man slowly turned around in his chair, and looked her over with disdain. He had a sharp nose and incredibly cold, green eyes. His eyes wandered over her body, looking her up and down. She wasn’t sure what she was being assessed for, but she knew she was failing. Finally, his eyes settled on her face.  
  
“I believe the question is, who are _you_?” Brienne felt her face go red and walked over to the table to replace the withered flowers by a fresh bouquet of bright red poppies.  
  
“I’m Brienne,” she said. “I’m a friend of Jaime’s”. The man raised his eyebrows and turned back to Jaime, completely ignoring Brienne and clearly not even considering introducing himself. Then Tyrion came waddling into the room.  
  
“Hello Brienne,” he said happily, “Lovely to see you again. Ah… I see you’ve met our father, Tywin. Father, this is Brienne, she is Jaime’s-”  
  
“Friend,” Tywin cut him off. “Yes, so she’s said.”  
  
An icy silence floated through the room until Tyrion said, “Right, who wants some coffee?” Before either of them could reply, one of the nurses walked in.  
  
“I’m sorry, we only allow two visitors at a time. I'm afraid I have to ask one of you to leave,” she said upon seeing the three of them.  
  
“That’s alright,” Brienne quickly replied, “I’ll come back later.” She looked back at Tywin, giving him the opportunity to suggest that he'd leave so that she could stay, but their brief encounter was long enough to convince Brienne that that wasn’t something Tywin Lannister would do. And of course, he didn’t.  
  
Brienne dropped the dying flowers in the bin next to the table, with a little more force than was absolutely necessary, and turned around to leave the room.  
  
Before she did, she looked at Tywin and said, “It was lovely to meet you, mister Lannister. I’m so glad you could come and see your son. Eventually.” Then she threw her bag over her shoulder and walked away.  
  
As she stormed out of the ward, she could hear someone hurrying after her.  
  
“Brienne, wait!” It was Tyrion. One of the nurses gave them a disapproving look, and so they silently agreed to continue their conversation outside. “So,” he said when the door closed behind them. “What do you think of our father?” Brienne shook her head and scoffed.  
  
“A very pleasant man” she replied sarcastically.  
  
“I meant to tell you he was coming-,” he started, but Brienne cut him off.  
  
“Yeah, a little heads-up would’ve been nice. Jesus. What an arrogant _ass_.” Tyrion chuckled at how annoyed she sounded.  
  
“Yep. That’s him.” Brienne’s eyes were ablaze with anger.  
  
“Yeah, no shit. It's _obvious_ that he thinks very highly of me,” she said, waving her arms in frustration. Tyrion narrowed his eyes.  
  
“So? What do you care?”  
  
“I _don’t_. I don’t care.”  
  
“Really? Then why haven’t you been able to look me in the eye this entire time?” Brienne frowned and finally met his eyes, only to find him attempting to hide his Lannister smirk.  
  
“You know what? I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.” Tyrion watched her burst through the door, ready to run down seven flights of stairs.  
  
When it swung closed, he smiled and mumbled, “Yep… He was right about her.” Then he turned on his heel and went back to his brother.  
  
  
Brienne was beyond relieved to find that Tywin had gone, when she came back in the evening. She was just about to enter the room when Jess appeared around the corner.  
  
“Welcome back,” she greeted. “And just in time.”   
  
“In time for what?” Brienne asked as she followed her inside, where she found Jaime's doctor was just about to leave.   
  
“Very good,” he said. “If all goes well, we'll be able to discharge you tomorrow. Nurse Jess will walk you through the rest of the procedure.” Then the doctor shook Jaime's left hand, awkwardly, and walked out.  
  
The three of them listened intently as the nurse explained how Jaime’s recovery would be long and slow process. When she suggested he’d borrow a wheelchair, Jaime immediately refused and Tyrion snorted loudly.  
  
“A little stubborn are we? Alright then,” Jess said, “No wheelchair. But you’re going to need quite a bit of help around the house. Do you have any friends or family members who could help you?” Jaime glanced at Tyrion and then at Brienne, where his gaze lingered.  
  
“No,” he finally said. “There’s no one.”  
  
“Okay, that’s alright. We will arrange for a professional caregiver to help you out.” Jess’ voice trailed off to a place where Brienne couldn’t hear her anymore. She studied Jaime’s face. He had been asleep most of the time and when he was awake, he was quiet, almost apathetic. It hurt Brienne to see him so weak, so lost and so confused. Sometimes he didn’t even remember where he was, when he woke up from his nightmares.  
  
Jess was still talking when Brienne suddenly heard herself say, “I’ll do it.” The room went quiet and they all looked at her. “I’ll stay with him. _I_ will take care of him.”  
  
Brienne’s heart was racing and she could feel that she was blushing, but even though she had completely surprised herself by saying it, she felt certain it was the right thing to do.   
  
Then the young nurse nodded and turned back to Jaime.  
  
“Turns out 'no one' is a very tall blonde,” she said with a smile. “What do you say, sir?” He continued to stared at Brienne for a long moment, a strange and unreadable expression on his face.  
  
Finally, he rested his head back against the pillows and said, “Fine.” Tyrion hopped down from the chair and put on his coat.  
  
“It seems my work here is done,” he said dramatically after Jess had left the room. “Please make sure to send me an invitation.” Brienne gave him a confused look.  
  
“An invitation? What for?”  
  
He threw his head back with laughter as he made his way to the door. There, he turned around and said, “Well, for the wedding, of course. What else?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to my dear Nymphy, and congratulations on your guest appearance in my story. I hope I didn't let you down! Love you to the three sisters and back <3.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I’m back! Sorry for going AWOL, I had to take a little break from writing because, you know, life... If you’re still here or if you have returned... THANK YOU💕!!

“Are you okay in there?” Brienne knocked on the bathroom door. “Jaime? Do you need help?” She looked over her shoulder to the nurse, who merely shrugged.  
  
“I’m fine,” he grunted, right before she heard the clang of his crutches against the floor tiles.  
  
“Really,” Brienne said sarcastically. “Is that what ‘fine’ sounds like?” Then she turned to the nurse and added, “Does he sound ‘fine’ to you?” The nurse replied with a chuckle.  
  
A little while – but way too much – later, she heard the toilet flush, followed by sounds of Jaime stumbling back to the door. Being in bed and severely injured for weeks hadn’t done his stamina and overall fitness level any good.  
  
He wore a full cast on his leg that would be replaced by a brace in a week. The fractured bones in his ankle had been fixated by surgical screws and plates and they put pins in his wrist. Brienne had seen the x-rays and thought it looked equally gruesome and futuristic. Then there was the problem of his broken ribs, which made virtually any movement both painful and exhausting.  
  
As if these things didn’t make walking hard enough, both his brain and his spine had been dealing with a decent amount of bruising and swelling, causing him to lose strength in his limbs. Taking five steps towards the bathroom made him break a sweat and pant like a tired old dog.  
  
His time in the hospital had left him pale and skinny, with long, greasy hair, a wild and messy beard and a long cut on his forehead that had partially destroyed his right eyebrow. The changes weren’t solely physical, though. Ever since Jaime had woken up from his coma, his personality seemed different. He was constantly grumpy and grouchy, barely speaking a word. What little he did say, came in one of three flavours: a bark, a snarl or a grunt. Most of the time he could barely bring himself to nod or shake his head when being asked a question. He was downright rude, making it very clear that he didn’t really need – or want, for that matter – her there with him. Basically, he was either behaving like an ass, or asleep, with nothing in between.  
  
There wasn’t much left of the strong, optimistic Jaime she had come to know. In fact, she wasn’t even sure she liked this version of him. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t there for him because he was so likeable. She was there because she _had_ to. He had stuck with her through all her ugly outbursts of darkness and drama, even though he never owed her anything – he barely even knew her. But he had been there when she needed him most, and for that, she would gladly sit through his grouchy, grumpy Grinch-phase – hoping it was just that: a phase. Sadly, the doctors could not guarantee that it would pass. Sometimes Jaime would be mean to her and she’d walk away, but whenever she returned, he gave her the strangest look, like he didn’t expect her to come back. But she did. Every single time.  
  
It was a Friday when he was about to be discharged, still refusing to use a wheelchair, which seemed to confuse the nurse, seeing as he could barely set one foot in front of the other. After dealing with the paperwork, they were ready to leave. Brienne swung Jaime’s bag over her shoulder after almost having to fight him for it, and watched how he started to sweat trying to carry and drag himself around the bed and out the door. By the time he met her in the hallway, he was so exhausted that he was on the verge of passing out.  
  
“Well done,” she said sarcastically. “Now it’s only 64 steps from here to the elevator.” Jaime gave her an annoyed look, but Brienne continued airily, “I counted them earlier. It takes about 30 seconds to get to the ground floor. From there it’s at least 250 steps to the car. I’m sure that won’t be an issue for you.” Jaime tried to hide the way he was panting by letting out some kind of odd, semi-arrogant huff.  
  
“I...” The heavy hospital air swallowed up his voice.  
  
“Yes?” Brienne urged. He scowled at her to which Brienne replied with an annoyed sigh. She pulled him back into his room to face a mirror. “Look at yourself. Just – look at yourself.” As soon as he caught his pale and sweaty reflection, he averted his eyes. Brienne could see him clench his jaw.  
  
“Exactly,” she continued, as though he had said something. “It would be such a waste of all these good people’s time and effort if you would throw away their hard work by _dying_ before you even set foot outside the hospital. It would be rather rude, actually, because we both know you haven’t exactly been Little Miss Sunshine. So just stop being an ass and let me get you a wheelchair.” He slowly looked over the nurses and another patient who was doing one of his 100 daily laps around the ward, and then sighed deeply.  
  
“Fine.” Brienne exchanged looks with the nurses and then quickly stepped around the corner to get the wheelchair that she had put there hours ago. Jaime give her a strange look.  
  
“Oh get over yourself,” she said, “and just sit down already.”  
  
It was a struggle to get him into the car, the way everything else had been a struggle lately.  
  
“Just let me help you,” she said, almost pleading, but he pushed her hand away and refused any kind of assistance.  
  
“It would be a lot easier if your car wasn’t so ancient and… impractical.” Brienne straightened her back and gave him an offended look.  
  
“My car is _not_ impractical. It’s a lot more practical than whatever scrap metal is left of _your_ car.” This made him turn around and glare at her, and she immediately felt bad. “Sorry. Your father is taking care of it, though. He’ll get everything sorted with your insurance and he’ll get you a new car.”  
  
“My… My father?” Sometimes when someone would tell or ask him something, he’d get this very confused look on his face. He would frown and stare ahead or blink slowly and repeat what had just been said like he didn’t know what it meant.

“Um… Yes. He… Tyrion took care of everything else. Your father-”  
  
“I don’t want him involved. He has to stay out of it.” Brienne shook her head.  
  
“He’s only making sure your car-”  
  
“I said,” Jaime interrupted, his voice flooding with impatience and his eyes filled with anger. “I don’t want him involved. Promise me you’ll make sure he stays out of it.”  
  
Even though Brienne didn’t quite understand, she said, “Fine, okay. I’ll call Tyrion about it later.” Jaime closed his eyes and nodded. “Now will you please let me help you? You’re not making this any easier you know. On either of us.”  
  
Their eyes met and for the first time since his coma, she recognised something in him that she feared they might have lost forever. He finally gave in with a single nod and Brienne helped him get in the car, before she put his wheelchair in the back and drove him home.  
  
  
It was strangely cool and quiet out in the Kingswood. Brienne got out of the car and soaked up the space and the freedom, but soon felt slightly discouraged when she realised how many steps there were leading up to and inside the house.  
  
Jaime must have guessed what she was thinking, because he said, “I’ll take the wheelchair around the back.” She watched him disappear around the corner of the house and carried his bags and crutches inside first. Then she went back to get her own bag and set it down next to his on the kitchen counter.  
  
It took Jaime forever to wheel himself all the way around the house and meet her in the kitchen.  
  
“I never realised how many doors there are in this house,” he said as he entered the room. Then he looked down at the bags and up at Brienne. “Why are you doing this? This is very unlike you.” Brienne felt almost insulted.  
  
“What is that supposed to mean, ‘unlike me’?” Jaime reached for his bags and placed them on his lap.  
  
“I mean,” he said as he moved away from her, “that it makes no sense. If you can’t even show up in a bar, why would you volunteer to stay with me and help me? Care for me? It makes no sense.” He had his back turned to her but she could see him shaking his head.  
  
The only way to explain would be to give him back his memory of the last weeks, but sadly, that wasn’t within her power.  
  
“But I did,” she said. “Well, I didn’t at first, but eventually I _did_ show up.” Jaime turned around to face her, visibly confused.  
  
“No...” he argued, but far less sure of himself than he had been up until this point. “I waited but you never came.” Brienne sighed.  
  
“What exactly do you remember? What is your last memory from before you woke up in the hospital?” Jaime growled. He hated these questions. It was simply too frustrating to be reminded of the things he no longer remembered.  
  
“I told you. I was in that pub, the dark one, on Dorne street.”  
  
“ _The Oathkeeper’s Inn_ ,” Brienne said as she sat down on one of the bar stools.  
  
“Yes, that one. I was waiting for you and you didn’t show up and I started drinking because I was angry.”  
  
“At me?” Jaime shrugged.  
  
“Yes. At you, at myself. At my father. And at you.”  
  
“Yeah, you already said that.” Jaime gave her a warning look, but Brienne ignored it. “What is the very last thing you remember?” she asked again. He rubbed his good hand over his face.  
  
“I don’t know. I was drinking and I must have gone home.”  
  
“By yourself?”  
  
“Yes, by myself, because _you_ didn’t show up.” The amount of accusation in his voice was hurtful.  
  
“You told me you wouldn’t be alone. That there were other people joining.” Brienne realised this was completely beside the point, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was tired.  
  
“Well, I lied. Because I thought you wouldn’t come if you knew it was just me.” This was oddly specific. He’d never told her that before. The memory seemed to confuse him as well, because he frowned.  
  
“You were angry at me because I didn’t show up? But I told you I wasn’t coming. I told you so, in the elevator.”  
  
“Yes, but I apologised. For yelling at you. And then I invited you again and you agreed to come.” Now it was Brienne who was confused, because that is _not_ what happened.  
  
“What?” Jaime asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  
  
She remembered the doctor telling her she shouldn’t push his memory too much while he was still recovering and very prone to severe headaches. But he seemed so lost, like he was drowning in a pool of memories and thoughts and dreams, unable to distinguish one from the other. The layer of ice that covered the lake of his memory was thin and treacherous, the ice holes of his amnesia had frozen over with illusions. What damage could one wrong step do?  
  
“Brienne? What’s going on? I… I ran after you in the car park, I said I was sorry...” They both knew he was trying to convince _himself_ more than anyone else. “Right?”  
  
Brienne bit her lip and slowly shook her head.  
  
“No, Jaime, that’s not what happened.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I don’t think we should-” He swiftly wheeled himself forward and lay his hand on her knee.  
  
“No, please, tell me. I need to know because I’m so sick of not knowing _anything_. Please…” How could she resist? The look he gave her attacked the strength of her heart with more force than all the avalanches in the world ever could. So she told him.  
  
She told him about the fight they had and the storm and the text messages. She took him back to when they had to walk to her apartment because of the fallen utility pole, and how it left the entire street covered in darkness. She revisited how he was so drunk that he threw up all over himself. She told him everything about that night.  
  
Well… _almost_ everything.  
  
Jaime looked at her with cloudy eyes and didn’t speak a single word.  
  
“Do you remember now?” Brienne asked hopefully.  
  
Jaime made a painful face, as though he was stuck between wanting to remember, and actually remembering. Torn between pretending he did remember, or admitting it was all a haze.  
  
“I um...” he started. “I don’t really...” Brienne gave him a warm smile.  
  
“It’s okay. I’m sure it will come back to you.”  
  
“All of it?” he asked, and just for a second, Brienne was reminded of how, when she was little, she used to make her father promise he had scared off _all_ the ghosts and monsters in her room before she went to sleep.  
  
“Let’s hope so,” she decided to say. Jaime smiled and nodded.  
  
“I’ll take this to my room,” he said, nodding towards the bags that were still on his lap. “All this remembering has given me a serious headache.”  
  
“Sure,” Brienne replied. “I’ll try to reach your brother.”  
  
When Tyrion asked her about Jaime’s mood, she told him it was worse than it used to be, but better than yesterday. He didn’t seem at all surprised when she said Jaime didn’t want his father to be involved, and he promised to take care of it.  
  
“Thank you,” Brienne said. “Just let me know if you need money or anything.”  
  
She had barely finished her sentence when Tyrion’s laughter thundered through the phone.  
  
“Money?!” he exclaimed. “Money won’t be an issue, I assure you.” Brienne rolled her eyes.  
  
“You know what I meant.”  
  
“Yeah, I know, but getting on your nerves is simply too much fun.”  
  
“You Lannister men have a strange idea of _fun_ , you know that?” Tyrion chuckled.  
  
“Hmm, I do. How do you think we came to be so rich?”  
  
“Rich _a_ _nd_ insufferably arrogant,” Brienne added.  
  
A little while later, as Brienne finished her lunch and Jaime finished staring at his, he admitted to feeling rather disgusting.  
  
“Maybe a shower would do you good,” Brienne suggested. He gave her a look that seemed almost angry.  
  
“Sure, I’ll just get out of this chair, shampoo my hair and wash my casts, why not?” Brienne’s smile faded.  
  
“I could help you,” she offered.  
  
“No. I’m not a cripple.”  
  
“Well,” she began to argue, but he didn’t let her finish.  
  
“I’m not. But if I cannot shower by myself, I will _not_ shower.” Brienne wrinkled her nose involuntarily. “I will not be washed like some kind of handicapped 90-year-old. Especially not by _you_.”  
  
Brienne tried to blink the insult away and said, “It’s not a big deal, I can-”  
  
“I said: _no_. Are you deaf?” And there he went, off into his dark cloud of anger and frustration.  
  
Brienne sighed and pushed her plate away, remembering how the doctor had warned her the road to recovery would be long and hard, like an uphill battle. She only hoped she was equipped well enough to guide him to the top. She wondered if coming here, trying to help him, had been a huge mistake.  
  
That was the last time she saw him that day. Whenever she went to his room to ask if he needed anything, he would tell her to go away or simply ignore her altogether. Sometimes she’d get so fed up that she wanted to throw something at him, yell at him or grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he changed back to who he used to be. But then she remembered that these mood swings were probably even more exhausting for himself than they were for her.  
  
Late that evening, she sat outside watching the stars, wondering if and when he would fully recover. What if his memory just never came back? Should she mold his memory by talking him through it, and if so… should she be truthful? Would it become like those moments you _think_ you remember from your childhood, that are really just visualisations of stories told by other people? Other people's memories that felt so right, so natural that your mind tricked you into thinking that these memories are your own.  
  
 _Maybe it's easier to keep certain things from him. Easier for him. Yes, definitely easier for him. Right?_  
  
Her thoughts seemed to knock on the inside of her mind and gave her a headache, so she went to bed, feeling incredibly alone in the big house, with only the ghost of a man she once knew, to keep her company.  
  
  
The next day Brienne didn’t see him until he left his room around 3 pm, but she decided not to judge, and asked him if there was anything he’d like to do.  
  
“Walk,” he said in a harsh tone. “I’d like to get up and walk away. _Alone_.”  
  
Those were the only words he spoke to her all day. Brienne was more than used to people being rude, and a couple of months ago she would have sworn he was one of them. But that was before she got to know him. Now she knew he was different and she found it hard to tell herself it wasn’t really _him_ talking, but whatever it was that the accident had done to him. It was hard, and getting harder every time.  
  
Sometimes she thought it would be easier to just give up and walk away. Get someone else to help him, but each time she could hear Jaime asking her, “Have you ever run away from a fight?” and decided she could not let him down. She wouldn’t. She desperately wanted him back, _needed_ him back. Yes, she would do _anything_ to have him come back to her.  
  
Sunday was no different. She didn’t see him all day. The only sign of life she received, was when she walked past his room and heard him FaceTiming his brother, who told him subtly and gently that he looked like shit and needed a haircut. Tyrion tried to convince him that he would feel better if he would make an effort to at least _look_ like he was _trying_ to feel better.  
  
About an hour after that, Brienne was in the laundry room next to Jaime’s room when she heard him cursing, followed by lots of noises. Without thinking twice, she hurried into his room.  
  
“Jaime, are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine, go away” he grunted, but Brienne saw there was blood on his hand and he was reaching for something on the ground. There were toiletries all over the sink and the ground.  
  
“What happened?” she asked.  
  
“Nothing. Just… Go, please.” Then she spotted a pair of scissors on the ground.  
  
“Were you trying to cut your own hair?” Brienne squatted down and reached for the scissors when Jaime grabbed her by the wrist.  
  
“I told you to go,” he hissed. Suddenly something snapped inside Brienne.  
  
She pulled his hand off her, and spat, “I’m so sick of this."  
  
“ _You’re_ sick of this? How do you think _I_ feel?” She grunted and threw her head back, violently rolling her eyes.  
  
“I _know_ you feel like shit. I know you want to walk and to remember and to be independent. But you can’t right now, okay? And sitting here moping around, resisting every ounce of support you’re being offered isn’t helping. _You_ are not helping. Now stop whining, give me the fucking scissors and let me cut that greasy mop on your head.” The words came out in such a rush that she needed to catch her breath, but Jaime was so surprised by her sudden outburst that he didn’t even argue with her.  
  
“Do you even know how to cut hair?” he asked as he watched Brienne in the mirror, threading her hands through his uneven warm golden locks.  
  
“Better than you, I’m sure. Look what you’ve done,” she replied, pointing at the cut in his neck. “Bloody idiot. Were you _trying_ to kill yourself?” Her eyes met his in the mirror. “Where is your first aid kit?”  
  
“So, what, you’re some kind of IT specialist-hairdresser-nurse hybrid?”  
  
“Oh piss off,” she said, smacking him in the back of the head.  
  
“I would but I’m kind of stuck in this wheelchair thing.”  
  
There it was again, a tiny glimpse of the Jaime she knew. He smiled and then added, “It’s in the kitchen, in the cupboard next to the fridge.”  
  
“Idiot,” Brienne repeated as she walked away.  
  
When she returned, she cleaned the cut and put a plaster over it. Then she cut his hair in silence, pretending the way Jaime stared at her didn’t make her feel extremely uncomfortable.  
  
When she was done, he looked at himself and gave her a pleased smile.  
  
“Huh,” he said, “It’s not half bad!” Brienne rolled her eyes as Jaime fumbled around in a drawer and took out a beard trimmer. “Any chance you know your way around these, too?”   
  
When she was finished, he looked like a new man. A skinnier, slightly older, new version of himself.  
  
Brienne wiped the hairs off his shoulders and Jaime asked, “Where did you learn to do that?” She didn’t look up to meet his eyes.  
  
“My father was sick for a long time before he passed. He didn’t want any visitors, but it was always important to him to look like a gentleman, so he let me cut his hair.” She smiled at the memory. “The first few times weren’t necessarily successful but every try was better than the last.”  
  
“I’m sure it was,” Jaime said before he looked up at her and took her hand. “Thank you, Brienne.” She could feel her cheeks flush but didn’t bother fighting it.  
  
“So now that I’ve done something for you,” she said after a while. “Will you do something for me?” He looked at her with suspicion. “Let me help you take a shower. You need it. Gods, _I_ need it. Please. You stink.” He turned away from her, but she wasn’t going to give up easily. “Jaime, please. I know it’s hard for you but honestly, you can’t just _not_ shower for weeks. It’s already been too long. I won’t look, I promise.” He narrowed his eyes at her.  
  
“You won’t look? And you think that’s wise? I’d rather not get soap in my eyes and my casts need to stay dry, so...”  
  
“I mean, I won’t look at your... You know. We can cover it up with a wash cloth or whatever.”  
  
“A wash cloth? You mean a towel.”  
  
“What?” Brienne saw a flash of an oddly familiar smirk on his face and she hated to admit it, but she had missed it.  
  
“A wash cloth won’t do,” he explained. “It’s not big enough.” For the first time in weeks, she heard him laugh and the sound was sweeter than music. Sweeter than anything. It was beautiful. “Where are you going?” he called after her. “I was joking!” When she returned, she was carrying a white plastic chair.  
  
“What the hell is that?” Jaime asked with a disapproving look on his face.  
  
“Are you kidding me? It’s a shower chair!”  
  
“Really...” Jaime replied, not quite convinced.  
  
“It’s a life changer, trust me,” Brienne said. “Now take off your shirt.”  
  
Their eyes met for just a second and Jaime said, “I thought you’d never ask.”  
  
 _Ugh_ , Brienne thought, _remember how I said I’d give anything to have the old Jaime back? I take that back. I don’t want him. Mopy, grouchy Jaime suits me just fine_. But as the thought left her mind, she couldn’t help but smile.  
  
  
Not long after that, Jaime found himself sat down on the so-called shower chair. Brienne had wrapped his right arm in plastic and gave him a stool to rest his leg on. One of Jaime’s crutches stood at an angle against the wall so he could rest his arm on it and keep it dry.  
  
When Brienne was satisfied with the setup, she turned the water on and said, “We’re lucky you have a shower the size of a small city bus.”  
  
“Lucky indeed,” Jaime said sarcastically. “Luck is definitely the first thing that comes to mind when I think of my current situation.”  
  
“Oh hush,” Brienne said. “It could be worse. You could’ve been poor, which would make your current situation considerably more difficult. You know what else you could’ve been?”  
  
“Not crippled?” Jaime suggested.  
  
“ _Dead_.” The word echoed back and forth between them until it finally dissolved and along with it, the tension it had created.  
  
“Ready?” Brienne asked. Jaime leaned forward and nodded. The warmth of the shower sent a shiver down his spine. It felt so incredibly good that it almost brought tears to his eyes.  
  
 _What a strange thing to take for granted_ , he thought as the water ran down his back, _a simple warm shower_.  
  
Soon enough the bathroom went all foggy with steam and the warmth crept into his icy mind like alcohol on a summer’s day, leaving him feeling hazy and relaxed. The water flowed down his arms in translucent ribbons, taking the hairs and the dirt and little pieces of his anger and washing it down the drain.  
  
“Is the temperature alright?” Her voice sounded weirdly far away and even though he wanted to reply, all that came out was a soft hum and a weak nod of his head. The softness of her hands on his back seemed to free him from the frustration he’d been feeling. With every soapy brush of her fingers across his skin the tension left his body like a sigh.  
  
“Lean back,” she said. “Trust me.”  
  
The words swirled into his mind and he leaned back. Brienne’s long and slender fingers raked over his scalp with slow and symmetric movements as Jaime enjoyed the sound of the soap foaming around his ears. A moan escaped his mouth before he realised it, but when he did, he opened his eyes to meet hers and gave her a drowsy smile. When she returned the smile, something happened inside him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but there was a familiarity to the way she looked at him, that made his limbs numb and his head spin. Her cheeks were red and the combination of warmth and steam and the odd splash of water made her short blonde hair curl in some places and stick to her skin in others. But it wasn’t her freckled skin, nor her hair that made him glad he was sitting down. It was all in her eyes. Always her eyes. So blue it almost hurt, so beautiful it made him weak.  
  
“Could you maybe stop staring at me?” she asked. “You’re distracting me.” Normally, he would have made some kind of snide remark but not this time. His mind was completely blank, aside from that vague image that was desperately trying to surface, but seemed to be just beyond his grasp. He frowned.  
  
“What is it? Is something wrong?” Jaime slowly shook his head.  
  
“No, I… I think I’m remembering something.” Brienne’s eyes widened.  
  
“Really? That’s great! What is it?”  
  
“Um… I’m not sure...”  
  
“Oh… That’s alright. I’m sure more will follow.”  
  
“Yeah," he sighed, "I'm sure it will."  
  
Jaime couldn’t help but continue to stare at her until he felt a stir in his groin that made him feel so exposed and uncomfortable that he cleared his throat awkwardly and adjusted the wash cloth, using his hand to make sure Brienne wouldn’t see what was going on.  
  
 _Seriously?_ Jaime thought, _This is really not the time. Think of something sad. Anything_. Jaime closed his eyes and then peeked through his eyelashes to find Brienne so focused that she hadn’t noticed. Then he tried to relax and will away this involuntary and highly inconvenient bodily reaction. He tried to focus on her touches rather than her face, but her soft hands on his skin only made it worse.  
  
Just as he was about to say something to distract himself, she started rinsing out the shampoo.  
  
When she was done she handed him the shower gel.  
  
“All done,” she announced. “I’ll be right outside. Just call me when you’re ready.”  
  
Jaime nodded and watched her leave the room. He stared at the closed door for what seemed like minutes, feeling equally relieved and confused. He tried to sharpen the blurry picture in his mind, but he couldn’t and the more he tried, the worse his head began to ache, almost as though thinking, and especially remembering, psychically hurt his brain.  
  
When he finished washing himself he called Brienne back inside. She helped him dry himself off and dressed him in joggers and a t-shirt, which was all he had been wearing for days and all he would continue to be wearing for weeks to come.  
  
Jaime sat on the edge of the bed as Brienne helped him put on his shoes. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved lately. You didn’t deserve that.”  
  
Brienne avoided his eyes and said, “That’s alright. I understand.”  
  
“I really thought you stood me up.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  
  
“I wanted to, but the nurses said I shouldn’t force anything during the early stages of your recovery.” She paused and then added, “Priorities, you know.” Jaime nodded slowly.  
  
“It makes me wonder what else I’ve forgotten. Or made up. I don’t know what’s worse: not remembering at all, or thinking I remember, but finding out it was all in my head.”  
  
“Yeah,” she replied quietly.  
  
  
Once they’d overcome the obstacle that was Jaime’s pride, the days went by more smoothly and although he still didn’t speak much, he wasn’t hiding from her anymore.  
  
On Thursday they went back to the hospital to get Jaime’s leg cast replaced by a brace and to have the pins removed from his wrist. His overall mood had improved in the sense that it was more constant now, although the fact that his memory made no sign of coming back to him – aside from that one time in the shower – frustrated him deeply.  
  
The neurologist told them that if he was feeling up for it, they could try triggering his memory by visiting places, talking him through the past couple of weeks. The idea scared them both to death. Without any words they had agreed to let the doctor’s suggestion rest until further notice.  
  
On Friday, they expected Jaime's new car to be dropped off around 3 pm, but it was early in the afternoon and Brienne had just spilled a jar of tomato sauce all over her shirt and the kitchen, when the doorbell rang.  
  
“Are you expecting anyone?” she asked, looking around for a way to make herself look presentable in a matter of seconds.  
  
“No? I don’t think so…” He looked over at Brienne and chuckled. “I’ll get it.”  
  
Jaime got out of his wheelchair and dragged himself to the front door on his crutches. He opened the door to find an unfamiliar young man, with a boyish face and big brown eyes, staring at him.  
  
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested,” Jaime said. “I appreciate you coming all the way out here to try, though.”  
  
He was about to close the door when the boy said, “N-n-no sir, I-I’m not selling anything. I’m here for your therapy session.” Jaime raised one eyebrow and shifted his weight.  
  
“Therapy? Did Brienne put you up to this?”  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“What kind of therapy? Are you a shrink?” The boy shook his head vigorously.  
  
“N-no sir, I’m your phhhysiotherapist,” he stuttered.  
  
Jaime narrowed his eyes and looked him up and down. “Are you sure? Have you even finished secondary school yet?” The boy’s round cheeks flushed and his stutter seemed to worsen.  
  
“I-I-I assure you, I graduated from u-u-u… from university last year, at the t-t-top of my c-c-class, sir.” Jaime felt like it took the boy hours to finish his sentence and was about to say something mean, when he noticed Brienne had joined him at the front door.  
  
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “I completely forgot! You must be the physiotherapist!” Jaime thought the boy looked almost relieved to learn that _Sourpuss Lannister_ wasn’t the only one in the house. “Peter? Patrick, was it?”  
  
The boy smiled apologetically and held his hand out to her. Jaime couldn’t help but snort at the irony of a boy with a stutter having a name like that, but Brienne pinched his arm and glared at him before she shook the boy’s hand.  
  
“It's P-podrick, madam,” he said, “P-podrick P-p-payne.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very warm welcome back to any of you who have returned! I'm sorry that I kept you waiting for such a long time, but there were things to be done in the offline world that didn't leave much room for writing. I'm very glad to have found my way back to TLWH, as I hope you have too.

Therapy with Jaime Lannister meant enduring lots of yelling and things flying about the room. _In fact_ , Brienne thought as she sipped her morning coffee and a chuckle escaped her lips in the shrill morning light, _anyone who survives being_ any _type of therapist to Jaime for more than 3 sessions, should be rewarded with some sort of medal_. She fought the urge to look over her shoulder when she heard him curse outside in the garden, but the allure of his frustration was too strong and she was just in time to see him launch one of his crutches into the roses. _Perhaps a statue_ , Brienne added in her thoughts, as she watched Podrick duck and then retrieve the crutch from its flowery bed.  
  
Brienne pushed the heavy sliding door to the garden open and stepped outside. Even though the blazing midsummer sun had only been up for a couple of hours, the stone tiles were already so hot that they could burn the soles of her feet. It was unusually warm in the area and the heat was messing with Jaime’s recovery. There was barely any wind, so the air carried no sound of the forest and thus no sign of life. It felt like the world was completely still around them.  
  
“I think that’s enough for today, Podrick,” Brienne suggested, shielding her eyes from the sun.  
  
“But we we h-haven’t worked on his hand yet, m-madam,” he said. No matter how many times she had told him to call her by her name, the boy insisted on saying ‘madam’. She squinted her eyes to look at Jaime, who was quite aggressively putting his leg brace back on – something he still couldn’t do properly by himself.  
  
“Tell me something, Podrick,” Brienne continued in a hushed voice, “How many times has this happened over the last two weeks?”  
  
Jaime’s mood must have missed the weather gods’ memo, because even though the entire region was more like a desert than anything else and the sun shone so brightly that opening your eyes was a task in itself, Jaime’s face was pure thunder. Dark, angry thunder. No cheeky dimples, no bright teeth or squinting eyes. Just a heavy frown and lips carrying curse words that were better left unheard and unspoken.  
  
“Madam?” asked Podrick.  
  
“If I remember correctly, he didn’t do his hand exercises two days ago because he had a headache. The time before that, he insisted on doing his knee exercises until you had to move on to your next client. The time before that, I believe, he simply kicked you out because he was tired.” She saw the blood creeping up Podrick’s neck like poison ivy and turned back to Jaime to add, “And he’s always tired, isn’t he.” It wasn’t a question, it was more like an accusation.  
  
The boy’s face was now so red that Brienne began to worry that he had stopped breathing. Then the stuttering came. Brienne had learned that it always got worse when he got nervous, which basically meant that he was fine talking with her, but couldn’t say one sentence without stuttering when speaking to Jaime.  
  
“I-I-I didn’t realise...” he stammered apologetically. “I didn’t think he was-”  
  
“Self-sabotaging?” Brienne interrupted. “Yes, well… I’ll talk to him. Thank you for coming.” The boy gave Brienne a polite nod and said his goodbye to Jaime, who grunted something inaudible in return. Brienne didn’t even bother apologising for his rudeness, and simply smiled a tired smile before she walked him to the door.  
  
  
It had been three weeks that she had stayed with Jaime and once the weekend was over, she would have to return to the real world. To her job. To Roose Bolton. She wasn’t sure which prospect scared her more: leaving Jaime alone all day, or facing Bolton without him.  
  
Brienne opened the mailbox and took out three envelopes, one of which was dressed in lavish lettering. She had seen this handwriting before and for a moment, her finger lingered on the edge of the envelope, ready to tear it open and find out who the mystery writer was. She didn’t do it. Instead, she put the mail on the kitchen counter until Jaime would find them and put them away. She wouldn’t be surprised if he never even opened them. Regardless, she couldn’t help wondering who they were from and what they were about. Perhaps it was just a get-well-soon card. The thought made her realise that she hadn’t seen a single one.  
  
Right after his accident, he received flowers from his colleagues, but he never even got to admire them. Tyrion’s wife had sent him a card and a box of chocolates, but the chocolates disappeared in a cupboard never to be seen again and the card went… well… elsewhere. Wasn’t it strange that someone as well known and widely loved as Jaime Lannister could go through something like this without a single visitor? No cards, no gifts, no phone ringing off the hook. No people checking up on him. What about his family? What about his father? The more Brienne thought of it, the stranger the idea became, and so she decided to call the largest personality in the smallest body she had ever met: Tyrion Lannister.  
  
Brienne slowly walked through the garden, gently sliding her fingers over the leaves of the beautiful purple flowers that surrounded the pond. It took so long for Tyion to answer that Brienne was lost in thought when he finally did.  
  
“Brienne! My precious, soon-to-be sister-in-law. How wonderful of you to grace me with the… sweet… sound of your voice.” Brienne rolled her eyes, half amused, half annoyed. It was as though he could see her through the phone. “Truly! I’m really getting used to this whole-”  
  
“All right, that’s enough. Gods you are very persistent, you know that?”  
  
Tyrion laughed and replied, “There is a reason they call me the Lion of Lannister.”  
  
Brienne frowned, sceptical. “They? Who are _they_?”  
  
“Fine, you’re right. No one calls me that. I suppose that nickname was already taken.”  
  
“By whom?” At that moment, for no particular reason, Brienne turned around to see Jaime limping towards the sunbeds near the house. She didn’t hear what Tyrion said, if anything, but didn’t feel the need to ask him again. “Anyway,” she continued, as she tore her gaze away from Jaime, “The reason I called you, is because I’m worried about him.” There was no need to define _him_.  
  
Brienne told Tyrion how Jaime hadn’t been doing all of his therapy, how his memory wasn’t improving at all and how his mood still hadn’t gone back to normal. Once she started talking, the words flooded from her mouth so powerfully, that she had to catch her breath when she was finally done.  
  
“Talk to him about the therapy. You don’t need _me_ to tell you what to do. As for his memory, I’m not sure if you are doing everything you can to help him regain it.” Was it just her or was he accusing her of something? “You heard the doctor. If I didn’t know any better, I'd think that there are things you don’t _want_ him to remember.” He paused long enough to let the words echo in her mind, before he continued, “Of course, I _do_ know better. I’m just saying.”  
  
“Hm-hm,” Brienne hummed sarcastically, “Of course you are.”  
  
“Regardless, I think you could be doing more to trigger his memory. I wouldn’t be too worried about his mood.”  
  
“You don’t understand, though,” she protested. “He always seemed so strong and optimistic before his accident. Like nothing could shake him. And now… He gets so _dark_ sometimes.”  
  
Tyrion scoffed, “You think _this_ is dark? Sweet summer child… This is nothing. Jaime has seen days so dark he thought he’d gone blind.” Brienne’s throat tightened with curiosity.  
  
“When? What happened?” She heard him shuffling around and scratching his beard before he sighed.  
  
“It’s not up to me to tell you about that. Hold on to those moments when you see flashes of his old self and try to drag those pieces to the surface. Eventually the shadows he hides in, will drown in the light. Don’t give up on him. You’ve come so far already.”  
  
 _Have I really?_ Brienne thought. _It feels like we are standing still, and miles from where we used to be.  
_  
“I’m trying, but he makes it really difficult sometimes,” Brienne said. “And I just don’t understand.”  
  
“Really? _You_ don’t understand? Are you sure? Look deeper, Brienne. You two might be more alike than you think. I have to go now. Call me when you have some actual news. A date for the wedding, for instance.”  
  
As always, Tyion skipped the part where normal people say goodbye and simply hung up the phone, leaving Brienne slightly bewildered.

Jaime had been asleep on the sunbed for at least 20 minutes. Even in the shade his skin looked like honey; smooth, warm, golden honey. Brienne watched his chest rise and fall with every deep breath. Shesilently studied his face as she stepped closer. He wore braces on his leg and his hand and he had a nasty scar on his face, yet he seemed peaceful and free of pain.  
  
 _He doesn’t_ look _broken_ , she thought to herself.  
  
“The Lion of Lannister,” Brienne whispered as she sat down on the bed next to his. Whoever _that_ Jaime had been, there wasn’t much left of him now. Yet still, with a tilt of the head, a squint of the eyes and a quick trip of the mind to 3 months ago, she could see him. The blue-eyed, confident, lion with his coat of gold and sandy mane. Muscular, strong, balanced. Now he was skinnier, older, clumsy and ill-tempered.  
  
Jaime sighed in his sleep and turned his head to the side. His lips curled up into a weak smile for just a second, as if he recognised an old friend in his dream. Or as if he had read her mind. Brienne wasn’t sure what a smiling lion would look like, but she knew Jaime’s smile made her weak in the knees. And the heart. And mind. Weak all over, really.  
  
Just as she admired the way she had cut his hair and how it framed his face in an uneven but most charming way, Jaime started mumbling and turned his head away again. Slightly startled, Brienne straightened her back, ready to get up, but then realised he was still asleep and relaxed again. She had no idea what he was saying, but it sounded like he kept repeating the same words.  
  
“What?” she tried. Jaime turned back to face her, suggesting that he had heard her, and frowned. He said the words again. What was he saying?  
  
“I can’t hear you,” Brienne said quietly. Jaime mumbled something else and then repeated his mantra. This time, there was no mistaking what he said.

“ _Where is she_?”  
  
“Where’s _who_?” Brienne urged. He shook his head ever so slightly and let out a sad sigh.  
  
“Gone,” he mumbled.  
  
“Who's gone? Who are you talking about?” She didn’t know what came over her, but before realising it, she added, “Is it Lyanna?”  
  
His reply was little more than a breath as he turned away from her again, but Brienne thought she heard him say, “Sophie.”  
  
“I don’t know who that is. Who is Sophie?” Jaime did not answer.  
  
  
He slept for another 15 minutes at least, small beads of sweat glistening like tiny pearls on his forehead. He had been frowning for most of his nap and although he appeared to be rather restless, he hadn’t said anything else. Brienne couldn’t stand to watch him suffer under the weight of his nightmares like he did in the hospital, so she decided to try and wake him, gently.  
  
When she said his name, he didn’t respond. Again. Nothing. Eventually she moved to the edge of the bed and hovered her hand over his arm. Right before she was about to touch him, she moved her hand to his face and with a touch as light as a feather, she gently moved a strand of hair off his forehead. As her fingers touched his warm skin, his face finally relaxed.  
  
Convinced that not even a gunshot would wake him, she continued to trace the scar on his eyebrow with the tip of her finger. Brienne felt a sudden and most unwelcome heat creeping up her neck and flushing her cheeks as she stared at him. The closer she moved her hand to the side of his face, the more he leaned into the soothing warmth of her palm. He looked so peaceful now. Then suddenly, he took a shark breath in and awoke with a start.  
  
“What? What are you doing?” he asked, visibly confused as he tried to sit up straight.  
  
“Nothing, it’s all right. I was trying to wake you.” Jaime was finally able to focus on her face and studied her with suspicion, before he looked around.  
  
“How long was I asleep?”  
  
“About half an hour. I thought you were unwell, because you were sweating pretty badly.” Of course she didn’t mention the little chat she had with his subconscious mind. Jaime wiped the sweat off his brow and tried to get up but lost his balance. Within a split second, Brienne was up and grabbed him by the arm. Jaime stared at her hand and frowned, blinking slowly.  
  
“Are you okay?” He didn’t reply, but slowly looked up at her. “Jaime?” He took his crutch from behind the sunbed and nodded.  
  
“I’m fine. I um… You can let go now.” Brienne blushed as she realised she was still holding him.  
  
“Right,” she quickly said. “Sorry.”  
  
“No need to apologise.”  
  
“Oh… Okay.” Well this was awkward. What just happened to him? Brienne quickly increased the space between them and cleared her throat. “Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps? Something to eat?” Jaime still stared at her and although it made her uncomfortable, there was a soothing reassurance in the familiarity of his stare. It felt years ago since he had last looked at her like that and when Brienne realised she had missed it, she blushed even more.  
  
“No, thank you,” Jaime said. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I need to um… clear my head.” He didn’t wait for her to reply, but stumbled back inside.  
  
  
Later that day, Jaime joined her outside, welcoming a colourful dusk. They listened to the blackbirds announcing the end of the day, and to the crickets chirping in the tall grass. As the stars came out one by one and then quickly by the dozen, there was the occasional shriek of a bat or swallow flying overhead and eventually, when it was completely dark outside, the owls out in the forest started calling out to one another. Perhaps it was because there was still no wind whatsoever, but the evenings were warm and humid, so they didn’t bother building a fire. Instead, they sat in the silver light of the moon and all her stars.  
  
“I know you’re avoiding physical therapy for your hand,” Brienne suddenly said. Jaime took a breath in, but Brienne continued, “I don’t know why, but you do. Don’t try to deny it. You’ll never get better if you don’t practice.”  
  
“It’s the kid,” Jaime replied, ‘He’s an amateur. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes. “He’s not a kid and it’s not him. He’s just as good as any other physiotherapist.”  
  
“Then they all suck,” he snapped. “He’s clumsy and slow and it pisses me off.”  
  
“It doesn’t take a lot to piss you off, though, does it?” Jaime turned his head away from her. “He’s not clumsy. You just make him nervous.” Jaime snorted. “Maybe you could try to be a little nicer. He’s only trying to help you. We all are.” By 'we all' she meant herself.   
  
For a moment it was as though the entire world was holding its breath, until Jaime admitted, “I guess I’m just… _slightly_ … worried, I suppose, that my hand won’t go back to normal. I can barely use it. I can’t hold a pen, I can’t dress or undress myself.” Brienne shifted in her seat and looked at him. Thankfully it was too dark for Jaime to see the pity on her face.  
  
“I understand that you are scared-”  
  
“Worried,” he interrupted to correct her, “I’m not _scared,_ but worried. A little.” His voice was full of disgust, as if reasonable fear was a sign of weakness. An infected seed that would spread like wildfire, grow like weeds and eventually climb up your very soul like poison ivy, until it’s completely overgrown and diseased.  
  
“Either way,” Brienne said, “You have to try. Promise me that you will try harder.” Jaime took a deep breath in and looked at her in the dark, his eyes glistening like a moonlit lake in the mountains or a street in the rain, at night. Brienne felt highly unsure of where those eyes would lead her.  
  
“I promise.”  
  
  
  
When Brienne went back to work, she felt the weight of a small building pressing down on her as she entered the building. She tried to straighten her back under the anxiety trying to keep her small. Coming back to work after three weeks meant that her desk was a small city full of skyscraper. Piles upon piles of paperwork covered every inch of flat surface. During the first couple of hours, there were a few coworkers who showed an an actual interest in her absence, which was surprising to say the least. Brienne wasn’t sure if she felt flattered or annoyed by this. Renly was the only one she had a proper two-way conversation with.  
  
Sadly, right before lunch break, a very pale, very skinny man told Brienne that Bolton had sent for her. Renly insisted that she shouldn’t go, or that he accompany her. Their hushed argument caused suspicious looks and annoyed sideways glances from the others.  
  
“Just leave it, Renly,” she hissed. “I’ll be fine.” She physically pushed him aside and strode out of the office, faking a highly unrealistic confidence. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud that she could barely hear her own thoughts as she entered her boss’ empty office. Brienne hadn’t as much as set one foot inside, or she was overcome by an ominous feeling, an almost animalistic urge to run the other way.  
  
Bolton’s office was the largest one on the entire floor and consisted of a desk area and a more informal seating area. Brienne walked farther into the room to look around the corner to the lounge area, when she felt something move behind her. It was Bolton, closing the door. The office immediately turned into a cage.  
  
“Jesus,” Brienne exclaimed. “How long have you been standing there?” Bolton looked her up and down with a nasty smirk and stepped closer.  
  
“Long enough to watch those long legs of yours walking right into the bear’s lair.” Brienne didn’t know how he did it, but one minute she was in the middle of the room, and the next he had her cornered in the lounge as he slid the doors shut behind him. She could already feel his sweaty palms pressed against her skin, but she fought very hard to stay focussed instead of disappearing into her mind, even though she knew neither option provided her with the safety she needed.  
  
“Sir, I-”  
  
“Hmm, how I’ve missed our little game,” he breathed as Brienne bumped into an armchair and had nowhere to go. His hand slid down her shoulder and she felt like there were knives in her chest and a fist around her throat. “I heard you were playing nurse with that Lannister _r_ _at_. Perhaps you can show me some of your tricks.” Once again, he had her trapped. He pushed himself against her leg and moved one hand down her back, while the other stroked her face in a way that made Brienne want to throw up.  
  
“I’d gladly let you...” he pushed his erection against her hip and squeezed her bum so hard it hurt, “examine me...” He then moved his hands up, fighting her with an ease that could only be the result of practice.  
“Oh, and that beautiful long neck,” he sighed.  
  
Brienne tried to claw at his face, but his large hands easily fit around her slim wrists and pushed her hands away. Fear nailed her to the ground, just like last time. And the time before that. And the one before that. How many more times did she have to go through this? How many more times would she let anyone touch her, _defile_ her with their filthy looks and disgraceful words?  
  
It felt like minutes had passed, but in reality it was a matter of seconds in which Brienne was able to look inside herself and find something besides the pain, the fear and the embarrassment. There was anger. So much anger. And courage, too. Because Brienne had disappeared into her mind for a second, she wasn’t actively fighting him anymore. Bolton’s desire for her drove him to forget that she didn’t actually want this and he loosened his grip, giving her time to duck, turn and push him back against the armchair. He stumbled, trying to regain his balance, but by that time Brienne had already made her way to the door.  
  
“Remember what I told you,” he warned her before she could leave. “You would lose everything. And no one would believe you. You know they wouldn’t.” There were a thousand things she wished she could do at that moment. She wanted to wipe everything off his desk, throw something at him, punch him, threaten him that one day he _would_ pay for this. But even though she didn’t want them to, his words weakened her courage and fed her fear. He was closing in on her again. Words might have been failing her, but her body wasn’t. She pushed him back again and quickly left the room, dashing past Renly who stood waiting by the door to their office. He called her name but she ignored him and stormed off into the storage room where Jaime had found her that one time.  
  
Not long after Brienne sat down on the floor, trying to calm the hawks inside her head, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Margaery, asking her to meet her outside for lunch. Even though her first response was to ignore her, she soon changed her mind, realising that Margaery had literally seen her at her worst. Besides, she was the only one in the world other than Sandor Clegane and pre-amnesia Jaime Lannister, who would be able to make her feel a little more safe and a little less lost right now. And so, she took a few deep breaths and left the room. With every step, her heart alternated between a strong need to be comforted and a paralysing reluctance to be around anybody. Eventually it settled somewhere in the middle, in a strange state of numbness.  
  
As soon as she saw Margaery in the garden, Brienne knew that Renly had told her about Bolton. Margaery must have seen the look on Brienne’s face because as soon as their eyes met, she started defending him.  
  
“It’s not his fault Bri, honestly. If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. I told him to tell me straight away, if anything happened.” Brienne wasn’t sure if she was more impressed by the fire that flooded from her mouth, or confused by the fact that she had just called her 'Bri'.  
  
“Brienne? Please, say something. Are you okay? What happened, did he touch you?” Her words really seemed to have changed into flames and Brienne backed away from the heat of her questions.  
  
The old, _normal_ Brienne would have been annoyed at Renly for not minding his own business, dragging Margaery into this and for being overbearing. But not this Brienne. Deep inside her, there was a tiny candle of hope, flickering in the draughty, empty halls of her heart. It was something she thought long gone, devoured by and surrendered to her trauma, closed off for all eternity. No matter how small, the warmth of that minuscule flame made Brienne want to hold on to it.  
  
“It’s okay,” she finally replied. “I’m okay.” Margaery let out a sigh of relief.  
  
“Listen, I don’t want you to freak out,” she said as she sat down on a bench, “but Jaime told me about the police report.” Brienne’s muscles immediately tensed.  
  
“And?” she asked, when nothing followed.  
  
Margaery looked confused. “And? And I think you should call them, and let them add this to your report!” There was something odd in her voice, it sounded almost like desperation.  
  
“Oh, right… Yes, I- I think I should… do that.” Maybe her voice trembled or she blinked too quickly. Perhaps the way she held her arm wasn’t right or maybe she breathed the same way a liar does. Whatever it was, it was very clear that Margaery was not convinced.  
  
“Why do I feel like there is something you’re not telling me?” Until now, Brienne had done a decent job avoiding eye contact, but it was no longer possible for her to ignore how those piercing eyes were staring up at her, and once she had opened that small window to let some of the pain out, the words followed.  
  
  
Brienne was surprised to find it felt strangely normal turning the key in the great oak door to Jaime's house, after work. It felt almost like coming home. The house was so large with so many different rooms, that it was almost like an advent calender. She mostly stayed in the main parts of the house, because she felt like she was intruding or snooping around when she went up the stairs. Jaime hadn’t done much to make her feel more at home and that realisation reminded her of the fact that this wasn’t her home. She was a guest, a visitor.  
  
They ate their dinner mostly in silence, until Brienne said, “So, you’re doing a lot better now. Being more independent and all that.” Jaime gave her a suspicious look, but she ignored it. “So...” she continued, “I’m thinking I should probably move back home.” Jaime clearly did not expect that.  
  
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Yeah, of course. I suppose I kind of forgot that-”  
  
“That I have my own house? Yeah, me too. So maybe tomorrow then?” He smiled a painful smile and nodded. A couple of minutes passed until he said, “Podrick says I should try hydrotherapy.” Brienne frowned and chewed on an undercooked green bean before she put it back on her plate.  
  
“Isn’t that just a fancy word for swimming?” The house was quiet. Knives and forks intermittently scraped over the ceramic plates and in the distance there was the soft buzzing and humming of the washing machine. Other than that, it was so quiet that Jaime’s smile seemed to send vibrations through the room that were almost strong enough to hear.  
  
“Yes, it is. I was thinking... it wouldn’t hurt to _try_.” The emphasis on his last word was almost ironic.  
  
“Right. Of course.”  
  
“There’s really no need to wait until my next therapy session, is there? We could start tonight.”  
  
“Oh,” Brienne replied in a strange voice. “We being… who, exactly?” Jaime looked up at her and she wasn’t sure if he was confused or embarrassed or something else entirely.  
  
“I was hoping _you_ could help me.” Brienne opened her mouth but it took a moment for her voice to come back to her.  
  
It was still weak – warm, but weak and soft – when she told him, “Of course I’ll help you.” They exchanged smiles heavy with anticipation until Brienne realised they had overlooked one minor detail. “It’s just, um, you know… Where would we find a swimming pool?” Jaime grinned and gestured to the walls around them.  
  
“Who would buy a house like this with no pool? I thought you knew.”  
  
“I didn’t.” There was a long silence again, until Brienne continued, “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.” Jaime seemed to consider this for a moment and then their eyes met again with a deafening crash.  
“I’m sure we can figure something out.”  
  
  
About two an hour and a half later, Jaime showed her the way to the swimming pool in the basement. His leg brace made climbing up and down the stairs a true challenge, but stubborn as he was, he wanted to try anyway. Over the past week or so, he had climbed the large marble stairs a couple of times, but these were very different. These stairs were steep and spiralling, with high, narrow steps.   
  
Brienne, wearing Jaime’s blue swim shorts and a white tank top, went down first and was glad that she did when Jaime misplaced his crutch behind her and almost fell forward. Brienne quickly turned around and held on to the handrail with one hand as the other landed hard and flat on Jaime’s chest, preventing him from falling down. She pushed him back on his feet and looked down at the floor beneath them, afraid to think what would have happened if she hadn’t been there. The shock kept them both in place, breathing heavily.  
  
Brienne sighed deeply and said, “Jesus Christ,”  
  
“Fucking hell,” Jaime agreed.  
  
“Are you okay?” He nodded slowly, still slightly out of breath.  
  
“Yes, I think so.”  
  
Brienne’s hand still rested on his chest and they both seemed to notice at the same time, but neither of them moved or said a word. Brienne slowly lifted her eyes to look up at him and found him staring down at her. It was as if someone slapped her on the back and knocked the wind out of her when their eyes met. Then suddenly, she noticed that Jaime’s breathing changed and his eyes darted back and forth between hers. It seemed almost like he was panicking, but he didn’t move. Afraid to say something, Brienne just stood there waiting for it to pass.  
  
The entire situation was strangely familiar, like a deja-vu of a few days ago when Jaime almost fell in the garden. Only this time, the moment lasted longer and felt heavier, in some way. Jaime frowned and then his face relaxed, suggesting he'd just had a reassuring thought come to him, calming the the storm in his mind. Without breaking eye contact, he moved his hand over hers and pressed it more firmly against his chest. Brienne felt the hairs move ever so slightly under her fingers, and deep under his warm, almost electrically charged skin, she felt his heartbeat. It was fast, but strong and steady.  
  
“Don’t go,” he said, barely louder than a whisper.  
  
Brienne had heard him perfectly well, but her confusion led her to say, “What?”  
  
“Don’t go,” he repeated. “Don’t move back home. Not yet. Please, stay a little longer.” Brienne was blushing, her heart racing, but she didn’t make any effort to pull her hand back. So was frozen in place, trying to find something to say.  
  
“Oh, I um-”  
  
“Stay with me. Please, stay.”


	16. Chapter 16

The world went spinning for a second, when one of Jaime’s crutches slipped on the narrow steps of the stairs and he lost his balance. If it hadn’t been for Brienne, he would have surely broken his other leg. Or worse.  
  
“Are you okay?” Her voice came from miles away even though they were only two hearts apart. Jaime took a deep breath in, trying to calm down.  
  
“Yes, I think so.” He wouldn’t have been able to say if she said anything after that. As he looked down, he saw her pale hand on his chest, cool fingers almost sizzled against his radiating skin like raindrops. It was as though a magnet was trying to pull his heart through bones and tissue until it would melt away in her palm. There was something familiar about the feeling and he didn’t know why, the urge to place his hand over hers and the touch of their hands was all but electric. A strange fog spread through his mind as the ringing in his ears grew louder. Somewhere far away he heard voices, although he couldn’t make out who they belonged to. Through the thick mist of his memory, pictures started to take form, like the sun breaking through the clouds.  
  
“ _Tell me you don’t feel it too”_ , the voice said. Its sound was odd; wobbly, echoey. _  
  
“I want more. I need more_.”  
  
The image in his mind shifted and brightened like someone flipped a light switch. The voice changed as well and he recognised it was Brienne, saying, “Promise me we’ll take it slow.” Just like that, the moment was gone. The image dissolved, the fog lifted and Brienne’s frown came into focus.  
  
How long had they been standing there? A few seconds? Minutes? She was completely still, her sapphire eyes dark with worry. This wasn’t the first time fragments of memories had come back to him. It happened when he looked up at her in the shower and when she grabbed his arm outside in the garden. One or two times an image appeared and disappeared in the blink of an eye when she smiled at him over their morning coffee. At first these moments were rare and paralysing, but soon they became more frequent and Jaime became more used to the otherworldly experience of recovering a part of oneself. They were snippets, sometimes little more than tiny particles, but once he’d found these forgotten images, he could not unsee them. Remembering felt like he was a tall tree, rudely awoken by a sudden gust of wind, watching helplessly as his memories tumbled and drifted past. Even though he considered this to be progress, Jaime thought it both beautiful and sad. Of course he wanted to be better, but still…  
  
Part of him was scared to lift the veil of his amnesia, mortified to uncover a black pit of sorrow and misery. Terrified of finding a hollow, deathly face staring back at him, rather than good and wonderful things. The more he recalled, the more he realised how much he wanted beautiful, happy, carefree Brienne to be under that veil, but the weight and misty darkness that came with these flashbacks made him fear that all he would find, were shards of glass and piles of rubble. What an embarrassment to feel this way. Fear was not something the Lannisters handled very well. On the contrary. If the Lannister family would have had a sigil, it would have been of a proud lion, standing tall over all the other animals - great and small. With its coat of gold and copper mane, looking down at the world with its ruby eyes, he’d rest his inexhaustible pride on a pedestal made of invaluable crystals. Fear, desperation, failure – these were things that did not fit in the image their father and his father before him had spent their entire lives building. A cripple who could not walk or write or even properly dress himself, did not fit in that family portrait. His little brother Tyrion had not fit there, and neither did he. Not anymore.  
  
Oh yes, the enviable Lannister dynasty, but as Jaime had learnt, all that glitters is not gold – quite the contrary. Once you’d fallen from that golden pedestal, that ivory tower, there was no climbing back up. After two years of darkness, a tiny speck of light had come shining through. Somehow he had found a star amongst his cloudy demons. A tall, blonde, blue-eyed star, made of crystals and steel. Hard and heavy as a rock, yet light as a feather. He felt drawn to that star like a drowning man trying to reach the surface of the cold, dark ocean that is his cage. Jaime felt the darkness slowly lifting and finally, he could see where his feet were carrying him. He could see ahead into a future was that was further away than the next dawn. Then his accident happened, and he had lost part of himself again, part of her and most of them together. But now his eyes were opening once more, and he was beginning to see more clearly.  
  
“Don’t go,” Jaime said suddenly, his voice quiet and urgent. The muscles in Brienne’s hand tensed under his touch and she gave him a surprised, almost frightened look.  
  
“What?” His stomach clenched with an overpowering need to maker her stay. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but his fear of losing her suddenly felt greater than the fear of his memory, of never regaining full function of his hand again, the fear of the darkness, of his mistakes and all his faults and flaws.  
  
 _She can’t leave_.  
  
“Don’t go,” he repeated. “Don’t move back home. Not yet. Please. Stay a little longer.”  
  
Brienne’s cheeks flushed. She breathed in to say something, but he didn’t let her. “Stay with me. Please. Stay.”  
  
For what seemed like hours, nothing happened. She just stared at him, searching for something. Perplexed, confused and perfectly still.  
  
“Say something please,” he said, a soul crushing regret starting to creep up on him. Then he let go of her, which seemed to immediately push her miles away, and she woke from her trance-like state. She slowly pulled her hand back, blinked and took a step back down the stairs, turning away from him.  
  
“All right. If that’s what you want, I’ll stay. For now.”  
  
“It is,” he replied quickly, and then, more quietly, “Thank you.”  
  
  
Even though Brienne was practically fully dressed, she seemed to feel slightly uncomfortable near the pool and Jaime did not understand why. She helped him take off his braces and he limped to the edge of the pool. Part of him wanted to let his body fall backwards into the water, but he decided to be more careful and use the chrome steps to slowly lower himself into the water. He felt strange; warm, and free, and lighter, somehow. He hadn’t felt this much like himself in a very long time.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the water,” Jaime said as he found Brienne seemingly hesitant to join him. _I even sound like myself_ , he thought happily.  
  
She scoffed. “Please. I grew up on an island, remember?” Her voice betrayed how his suggestion had offended her.  
  
“Well then, what’s keeping you? You _do_ know how to swim, don’t you?”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes. “Of course I know how to swim.”  
  
Jaime made a face and gesture that said _Sooo? What are you waiting for?!_ but he didn’t say anything. When Brienne continued to just, well… _stand there_ , Jaime decided to try a different approach. He floundered about helpelessly, flailing his arms and creating small waves and splashes.  
  
“Oh no!” he exclaimed dramatically, “Cramp! In my leg!” He went underwater and then came back up, coughing like he was about to die. “Help! I’m drowning!” He had never been very good at acting, and he was so dedicated to his role of the drowning cripple, that he didn’t know if he had Brienne worried or laughing when she finally dove into the pool. Right before she reached him, Jaime gasped for air and then went down again. It took only a second before he saw her face appear before him in the water. He smiled at her, but she didn’t seem amused. She pulled him up by his arm and as they came up, she pushed him away, splashing water all around, calling him an idiot in that typical way of hers.  
  
“We should really stop meeting like this,” Jaime said. Brienne swam away from him.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like one of us is dying and the other is the only one who can save us.” She looked at him like he’d just said something incredibly cryptic that didn’t make any sense. Or maybe it made more sense than it should have, and _that’s_ why she stared at him like that. Jaime cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, thanks for saving me. Ten points for the end result, two for execution.”  
  
“What?! Why only two?” she asked.  
  
“You are were about as graceful as a pile of bricks. _And_ as slow. I could’ve died a million times before you _finally_ pulled me out.” She splashed an armful of water in his face.  
  
“Remind me to _let you_ , next time, as I’m sure there will be a next time. You have a way of finding trouble.” Jaime pushed his legs up and floated on his back.  
  
“Maybe trouble has a way of finding me,” he said airily. He turned his head just in time to see her rolling her eyes, and kicked against the water. What followed was an immensely unfair water fight that reminded Jaime of his childhood. The only difference is that back then, he always won.  
  
The whole thing lasted no more than 30 seconds, but in that moment Jaime felt like the weight of his accident and his troublesome recovery was lifted from him. Once he realised he was sure to lose, he surrendered. Brienne’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were slightly red from the chlorine. Her jaw-length hair was wild and something in the way she combed her fingers through it, made Jaime smile. She gave him a triumphant look and turned around to swim away. Jaime, his childish heart set on a rematch, quietly moved closer and then snatched her around the waist.  
  
He wasn’t completely sure what happened, but one second they were just fooling around and the next Brienne’s arm collided with the side of Jaime’s face and she backed away from him. By the time Jaime had literally shaken away the buzz that went through his head, she had already reached the edge of the pool.  
  
“Jesus, what was that for?” Jaime asked, rubbing his painful face.  
  
“You scared me,” Brienne replied with a flat voice, her back turned towards him. It was as if he got hit in the head again. Pieces of broken memories came whizzing through his mind.  
  
“ _Are you afraid of me?”_ It was his own voice, but it didn’t match the images. He saw Brienne at different times in different places. There she was with longer hair, crying, on the ground with her face buried in her hands. _  
  
“_ _Did he do this?”_ Jaime saw her on a bed, covering bruises on her neck with her fingers, and then her standing outside, his own hand touching a bump on her head before she flung her arms around his neck.  
  
“ _You shouldn’t be here_ ,” Brienne’s voice said. He was falling down the rabbit hole, tumbling through shards of a broken mirror. Everywhere he looked he saw pieces of himself, of Brienne. Pieces of the weeks that had vanished, like pages torn from his book of life. The last image he saw before he snapped out of it, was that of Margaery turning to face him with a worried look on her face.  
  
“I’m sorry that I hit you,” Brienne said, without looking at him. Her arms rested on the edge of the pool, exposing her strong, freckled shoulders. Even though she hadn’t been training as much as she used to, her muscles were still very defined and there was an almost paradoxical elegance to that reflection of strength. Maybe it was the blow to his head, or maybe the dazzling confrontation with painful memories, but Jaime suddenly felt extremely dizzy and incredibly tired. It seemed like trying to remember physically hurt his brain and left him with a pounding headache.  
  
“It’s all right. I probably deserved it in one way or another.” Brienne lifted herself up and sat down, her long legs dangling in the pool. Her silence made Jaime feel almost sad. “Besides,” he added, “I still owed you one. A punch in the face, I mean.” At last, she lifted her beautiful blue eyes and gave him a weak smile. The wet fabric of her top clung to her skin and Jaime tried his best not to let it distract him. “I think I’ve had enough for today. I’ve got a headache and my legs are tired of treading water.” He exaggerated trying to keep his head above the water and Brienne couldn’t help but chuckle.  
  
“You look ridiculous,” she declared. Jaime smiled and then swam over to the chrome steps.  
  
“I know. Could you help me out, please?” It was a struggle to get out, but more because he kept looking at her legs with thin ribbons of water running down her strong thighs, than because he couldn’t climb the damn steps. Why did he feel like he had to apologise for looking at her? For touching her, even if it was just to take her hand to get out of the pool?  
  
As they dried themselves off and Brienne helped him put his braces back on, Jaime remembered the last memory that came to him after Brienne had hit him. It was Margaery. Part of him wanted to tell Brienne what he remembered – or partly remembered – but another, bigger part of him thought it best not to bring it up.  
  
If he wanted answers without burdening Brienne, he had to ask the only person who seemed to know what his flashbacks were about and what his amnesia was trying to keep from him. He would have to ask Margaery.  
  
  
“Oh wow. You look… awful.” Jaime grinned and combed his finger through his hair.  
  
“Thanks Maggie,” he replied, hugging her with one arm as she entered he house. “It’s a new look I’m trying.”  
  
“Well, as your friend I can only say... Please stop,” Margaery said. Jaime snorted.  
  
“I’ll take it into consideration. Coffee?” She nodded and continued to look at him with disgust.  
  
“I’m so glad you _finally_ called me back. I was starting to think the only way to get to see you and talk to you, was to just show up at your door with a couple of strong men to put you in a straight jacket.” Jaime shrugged dismissively, but Margaery wasn’t having it. “I’m serious, Jaime. Why do you always need to disappear?”  
  
“I don’t _always_ disappear,” he argued as he put their coffee mugs on the table and sat down. Margaery shook her head, visibly unwilling to have this discussion with him. “I just needed some space and time. I’m sorry. Now, tell me, how have you been?”  
  
Margaery huffed loudly. “You’d know if you’d bothered to return my phone calls or text messages. But it’s fine, I forgive you. _Again_. Anyway, you can stop with the small talk. What do you really want from me?” Jaime gave her a guilty smile.  
  
“What do you mean? Can’t a friend ask another friend for coffee?”  
  
“A friend, yes,” she said, “A Jaime Lannister? I don’t think so. Now spill it. What do you need?” Jaime put his mug down and looked at her.  
  
“I need you to help me remember.”  
  
They spent close to an hour talking about what had happened with Brienne and Roose Bolton. Mostly Margaery spoke and Jaime listened, but sometimes Jaime would fire so many questions at her, that she lost track of what she was trying to say. Although Margaery didn’t know everything, Jaime had often confided in her. The more she told him, the more fragments of his memories came together. It was as if they were working on a jigsaw puzzle and slowly, one by one, the separated pieces blended together into one large image. A couple of times, Margery’s story triggered something else in Jaime’s mind and they were both surprised by how rapidly the moments were coming back to him.  
  
After a long while and a fair amount of coffee, Margaery let out a desperate sigh. “I just wish there was something we could do, you know?”  
  
Jaime nodded. “We’ll just have to trust that the police will do their job.”  
  
Margaery frowned at him. “The police?”  
  
“I’m sure the investigation will lead to something, eventually.”  
  
She lowered her mug and made a painful face. “Oh… Jaime, I thought you knew.”  
  
“Knew what?”  
  
“She never went to the police.” Jaime had to let those words sink in for a moment, but then he remembered it quite clearly; as clearly as anything these days.  
  
“No, she did. I took her there.”  
  
“Yes, I know, and you waited outside, didn’t you?”  
  
“I did, and when she came back she didn’t really want to talk about it, but that’s understandable, right. Right? Maggie?” Margaery seemed to weigh her words in her mind before she spoke them.  
  
“She um… She never filed the police report.”  
  
It was like someone slapped him across the face. “What? Are you telling me she never even spoke to the police?”  
  
“No, she did,” Margaery explained. “She spoke to one of the officers about the procedure, and then decided it was both too painful and too pointless. The officer tried to convince her to go through with it, but she refused.”  
  
Jaime’s head was spinning. He tried to remember what Brienne and him talked about during the car ride home, but his mind was in chaos. Lights were flickering, sounds echoing. There was nothing to hold on to in the storm.  
  
“We were going somewhere,” he eventually said. “I was going to show her something, and then she decided she wanted to go to the police. I think it was her own idea... Or maybe it was mine, I’m not sure.”  
  
“Where were you taking her?” Jaime shook his head and rubbed his hand over his face.  
  
“I… I don’t remember.”  
  
Margaery leaned over and placed her hand on his knee. “Maybe not right now, but you will. I’m sure of it.”  
  
Not long after that, they were startled by the sound of the front door slamming shut.  
  
“Sorry!” Brienne called. Margaery and Jaime exchanged guilty looks. It wasn’t necessarily a secret meeting with Margaery, but Jaime had meant to finish before Brienne would return from her training. He didn’t know what Margaery was going to tell him, and he didn’t want things to be weird if Brienne walked in halfway through their conversation. He didn’t want it to be awkward for her. _Well, too late for that_.  
  
“Brienne, hey, look who decided to drop by?” Margaery shot him an accusing look as she rose to her feet.  
  
“Hey Bri,” she said. _Bri?_ Jaime didn’t remember anyone calling her _Bri_ before. But then again, that wasn’t the only thing he didn’t remember. Brienne put her phone and keys down on the side table in the entrance hall and came to a halt on the steps towards the lounge.  
  
“Oh,” she said, visibly surprised, but also, possibly, slightly suspicious. “I didn’t know you were coming.” She then looked at Jaime, and added, “Jaime didn’t tell me.”  
  
Jaime awkwardly combed through his hair, but Margaery said, “Oh he didn’t know. It was a surprise. I’ve been begging him to let me visit for weeks now, but he never returned any of my calls.”  
  
“Really?” Brienne said, sarcastically. “How rude and inconsiderate of him.” The tension hung between them like a heavy balloon, until the sudden sound of Margaery’s phone ringing punctured it and whatever was inside, immediately evaporated. She exchanged a couple of words with the person on the other end and put her phone away.  
  
“I should go. It’s my grandmother. She’s asked if I can get her some lemon cakes before the store closes.” Margaery grabbed her bag from the sofa and added, “You know she’s very sensitive when it comes to lemon cakes.”  
  
“Of course,” Jaime said. “You mustn’t keep her waiting.”  
  
  
When Margaery left and Jaime closed the door behind her, Brienne was still in the same place, on the steps between the entrance hall and the living room.  
  
“I liked her,” she announced in a dreamy voice, like only part of her was there with him.  
  
Jaime put one of his crutches in the corner and waddled past her to the kitchen. “Margaery?”  
  
“No. Yes, her too, but I meant her grandmother.”  
  
“Oh yes, she’s pretty great,” Jaime agreed. “Are you going to keep standing there or would you like to sit down? I saved you some dinner.”  
  
“Oh, you did? Thank you.” He tried not to feel offended by the surprise in her voice.  
  
When Jaime returned with her dinner _and_ a glass of wine– without dropping or spilling anything, thank you very much - he smiled at her and said, “At your service, Captain Carrot.” Brienne’s eyes widened and she blushed.  
  
“What did you just call me?” she asked. Jaime, unsure about what just happened, repeated himself hesitantly.  
  
“Captain... Carrot?”  
  
“You remember that?” She was still staring up at him, her eyes so hopeful they seemed larger than usual.  
  
Jaime blinked, caught off guard by his own mind. “Yes I- I believe I do.” Brienne smiled and took a bite of her dinner.  
  
“That’s great, Jaime. Very random, but great.” Jaime simply nodded and agreed. _It really_ _isn’t t_ _hat random_ , he thought, but he couldn’t possibly tell her that. It was as if she read his mind.  
  
“So, what did you and Margaery talk about?” Her curiosity surprised him. Lying had always come very naturally to Jaime, but not anymore. Not with her. And so, he decided to say something that was neither a lie nor the truth.  
  
“Oh… Just, you know... Work things.” Brienne clearly found that hard to believe.  
  
“Really?” she asked, her voice overflowing with scepticism. “Are you thinking about going back to work soon?”  
  
“Yes I am.” He paused for a second and then cautiously continued, “I remembered some other things as well, besides calling you Captain Carrot.” Brienne definitely responded to this, but Jaime wasn’t sure if she was excited or worried or neither or both. The look in her eyes made him panic. “About work, I mean,” he quickly added. “You know, projects I was working on, a big meeting I hosted, a presentation I gave. Like you said: random things. Nothing major.” He could hear how strange he sounded and cursed himself for it.  
  
“Right,” Brienne replied flatly. “Well... It’s a start, I suppose.” She ate the rest of her dinner in silence and then announced that she was going to take a shower.  
  
When, a little while later, Brienne walked back into the room, she was holding Jaime’s phone.  
  
“Sorry,” she said, reaching it out to him, “I accidentally took your phone off the side table instead of mine.” There was something odd in her voice, but before Jaime could start a proper conversation, she had already turned around and walked away.  
  
“Where are you going?” Jaime called after her.  
  
“To bed,” she replied without looking back. “I’m done with today and I think today is done with me, too.” She disappeared around the corner like an angry cloud drifting by and left Jaime confused and lost in silence.  
  
 _What the hell was that all about?_ he thought. _Am I missing_ _something?  
  
_ Jaime looked down at his phone and tapped it to activate the screen. One missed call from Tyrion, a message from Lyanna asking him to call her back ( _again_ ) and one other message, from Ella, that read: _I love you and I miss you. Will I see you soon?,_ followed by a couple of hearts and kisses _._  
  
He cleared the notifications, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach, opened a new message and wrote "Thank you, Maggie." 


	17. Chapter 17

Even though she knew the ceiling of her room to be white, Brienne felt like it was a dark, _dark_ grey today. Her mind was relentlessly projecting images of Jaime and some random women on it, like she had accidentally taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in some crazy drive-in theatre. She aggressively adjusted her pillows and rolled onto her side with more anger than anyone should feel when they’re trying to go to sleep. It made no difference. The curtains danced in the wind and through Brienne’s half open eyes, they seemed like long, mean ghosts, doubling over with laughter. Even the furniture was making fun of her now.  
  
“Ha-ha, very fucking funny,” Brienne hissed into the shadows, before rolling onto her back again. Closing her eyes did not stop the visions from invading her mind. Brienne sighed. She was doing well for a while there, when Jaime was moody, and grumpy and cross. But alas, dawn goes down to day and nothing gold can stay. These last couple of days there were so many instances where she had seen the Jaime she had come to know and… _care f_ _or_ , and these moments seemed to last longer and longer every time. He was slowly coming back to her and now _she_ was back to square one with the whole _emotional distance_ thing she’d been trying out. Another sigh.  
  
 _Who was I kidding?_ _It’s pointless. I shouldn’t have agreed to stay.  
_  
Utterly unable to sleep, she raised her right hand and started painting shadows on the wall. The moon was full and arrogantly parading her brightness. Brienne’s fingers glided through the air like a kite soaring through the sky. First, she drew a bunny, followed by a tree. Then the lines turned into letters and the letters into words. E-L-L-A, she wrote. Her fingers waltzed through the light and the dark and she continued, L-Y-A-N-N-A. When she finished with the A, she dropped her hand for a moment, until she realised there was one name missing from her literary – or literal - artwork, and so she dipped her fingertips in the ink of her jealousy, and made the letters extra fancy and extra tall when she wrote, S-O-P-H-I-E.  
  
 _Sophie, Ella, Lyanna_ , she thought bitterly. _Busy guy._ _I wonder how he tells them apart with names like that_. Of course that didn’t make any sense. She knew that. Sophie didn’t sound anything like Ella or Lyanna and Lyanna really wasn’t _that_ similar to Ella. Brienne was just looking for another reason to be salty. It was such a pity that Jaime’s recovery, going back to being his old self, meant going back to his girlfriends, or mistresses or whatever they were. Perhaps he wasn’t necessarily going back to them, but they were popping up in his life and therefore, in hers as well.  
  
Brienne didn’t know when exactly she fell asleep, because her pent up frustration bled all the way through to her subconscious mind, creating dreams in which she was competing for a mysterious prize, but all her opponents were more beautiful, more graceful, more talented and more loved than she would ever be.  
  
The next time she opened her eyes, she felt like she had just run a mental marathon and she was completely exhausted. It was still very early, but the sun was already rising, so Brienne decided to start her day well and go for a walk before work. The garden that went all the way around Jaime’s house was so big, and the nearest neighbours were so far away, that there was really no need for any type of fencing. A line of trees marked the end of his property and the beginning of a lovely field of tall grass and colourful wildflowers. Wandering around the Kingswood, Brienne often experienced a sense of peace. The little winding brooks comforted her restless soul and the quiet pine trees seemed to breathe some kind of supernatural understanding for her exhausted thoughts. With every sigh of the wind, she felt more able to let go. In short, Brienne really loved going on stroll through the woods. There was only one thing she did not like. Sometimes, she simply wouldn’t be able to shake the feeling that someone was watching her and wherever she went, the feeling would follow her around like a curious puppy. Brienne liked to imagine that it was just the spirit of the forest keeping an eye on her; keeping her safe.  
  
Today she felt no prying eyes staring at her from the bushes. The woods were calm and the majority of its inhabitants seemed to be asleep still – or again. Because it was so early, Brienne could enjoy being able to soak up the golden sunlight without being grilled alive like a lobster on a barbecue. When she entered the field, she looked around for a moment, appreciating the silence. It was so private, sheltered by the old oaks and pine trees standing guard, that she felt like it was the safest place on earth, worlds away from civilisation. The grass came up to her knees and tickled her legs as she waded through an ocean of colour. It was almost like stepping into a painting. Between the tall blades of grass, wildflowers gently swayed in the wind: sweet daisies and delicate harebells, cheerful little buttercups, the occasional blue cornflower and amidst their humble, innocent beauty stood the scarlet queen with her silky arms slowly opening to welcome her. The grass was dry and yellow, but almost soft underneath Brienne’s body as she lay down. Somewhere in the trees nearby, a pair of robins sang their sweet morning melody, and the sky above was clear and blue. With every breath Brienne seemed to sink deeper into the grass and being wrapped in the arms of the earth, she felt at peace with the world.  
  
  
She couldn’t have been lying there for more than 30 minutes when something between the sun and herself, cast a shadow over her face.  
  
“What are you doing?” It was Jaime. Brienne reluctantly opened one eye to look at him and then closed it again.  
  
“Enjoying some time away from you.”  
  
“Really,” he replied airily, “And how is that working out for you?” Brienne let out a sigh of frustration. He didn’t sound as offended as she had hoped.  
  
“It _was_ going fine. Now, I’m not so sure.” When Brienne felt and heard Jaime’s noisy attempt to lie down next to her, she turned her head towards him and shielded her eyes from the sun. “What are _you_ doing?”  
  
“Joining you,” he replied, slightly out of breath from his struggles. “Time away from me sounds wonderful. Just what I need, actually.”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes and moved away from him, increasing the space between them. “It is wonderful,” she agreed, “Absolutely wonderful”. As they lay side by side, Brienne couldn’t help but go back to a moment quite like this one, but in a different time and place.  
  
Jaime picked a flower from between the grass and held it above his head, casually spinning it between his fingers, its little red petals twirling around diligently.  
  
“Curious thing about poppies,” he said. Brienne looked at him, but he continued to stare at the little red flower, so fragile in his powerful, unbroken hand.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
Jaime smiled into the sky. “They grow from destruction. From chaos and distortion. Poppies are incredibly resilient. That’s why they are my favourite flowers. Did I ever tell you that? I don’t remember if I told you that.”  
  
Brienne rested her head back to look up at the sky. _If only that was all you d_ _on’t_ _remember,_ she thought, and it was as though he was inside her head, listening, because he said, “I _do_ remember some things, you know. Not just work things, I mean. _Life_ things.” She couldn’t look at him, almost afraid of what she would find. Afraid of what she would feel.

“You do?” she asked, her voice smaller than she had intended.  
  
“Yes. I remember a field like this one, but endlessly bigger. And the flowers, the stars and the trees. And you. I remember you there.”  
  
“Oh,” Brienne said. There was a moment of silence, until she asked, “When did you remember this?” Jaime looked at her from the side, but she still couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.  
  
“Last night, after you’d gone to bed.”  
  
“Oh,” she repeated.  
  
“Brienne?” For no reason at all, her heart rate increased and her cheeks flushed.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“We weren’t _just_ friends, before my accident, were we?” Finally she caved in and looked him in the eyes. She didn’t know what to say. _The truth_ , a voice came from within.  
  
“No,” she admitted. “No, we weren’t.” Jaime stared into her eyes for a long moment, nodded and looked up again.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
There were a million questions going through her mind. What else did he remember? What did all of this mean? What was she supposed to do now? It’s one thing to remember what happened in the world, but to remember what happened inside yourself is something else entirely. Would he remember that too? All the things he’d felt and thought and the things he’d fought so hard not to feel. Brienne took a deep breath in, trying so suck all the courage from the air and into her body.  
  
“Is that all you remember from that day?” Jaime shook his head.  
  
“I remember being at your apartment. I don’t know why I was there, but I believe it was morning. You were you telling me…” He paused for a moment. “You told me about some things that happened to you. Bad things.” Brienne closed her eyes, hoping that the darkness would soothe the pain of that memory. “We went to the police station,” he continued. “I waited for you outside. Then I brought you to the poppy field. My safe place.” Brienne nodded, even though he did not see it. “There are other things I remember now. Most of them are blurry, incomplete. Sometimes I mix things up in my mind or I get confused. But it’s getting better, I think. Definitely better.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” she asked. Jaime shrugged and shook his head.  
  
“I was… afraid, maybe, I don’t know. At first, not remembering was the scary part. Then I got used to the blank spaces in my mind, the emptiness. At one point I suppose the prospect of remembering bad things became even scarier than not remembering at all.” That made sense to Brienne.  
  
“And now?” she asked.  
  
“Now I’m not afraid anymore. I’m rediscovering a part of myself that wasn’t gone, it was just… hidden. And now I remember. You and the meadow and flowers. But also… the bruises and Margaery’s garden and how I held you in my arms. We sat on the steps outside your house.” Jaime sighed. “I remember trying to be your friend, but I also remember kissing you. And you kissing me. And...”  
  
“And?” Brienne urged.  
  
“And falling in love with you. I remember that, too.” Brienne’s heart almost exploded and a suffocating panic crashed over her. She was completely overwhelmed by his confession, even though he said the words so plainly, so matter-of-factly, like talking about what’s for dinner. Maybe that’s what made her doubt him, or maybe she was perfectly capable of doubting him no matter what he said or how he said it. Maybe the reason why he sounded so casual was because he was so used to saying those words. Besides, he might have _thought_ he remembered falling for her, but history taught that a) he could be remembering incorrectly and b) even if it _was_ true, that didn’t mean he still felt the same, or that he ever would feel that way again. About her. _Ever_.  
  
“Brienne?” His voice startled her and she blurted out the very first thing that came to mind.  
  
“Is there someone else?” Jaime was visibly confused and sat up straight.  
  
“Someone else?”  
  
“Yes. Other women. Girls. Females. _People._ ” Jaime blinked in confusion and frowned at her, but he didn’t get angry or defensive.  
  
“What- No. No, there is no one else.”  
  
 _Not that you_ _consciously_ _remember, at least_ , Brienne thought. Jaime seemed completely baffled by her reaction. “ _That’s_ your reaction? Is there nothing else you’d like to say?”  
  
Then, as by some higher power – perhaps a gift from the gods – something amazing happened: Brienne’s alarm went off.  
  
“I have to get to work. Can’t afford to be late. I’ll see you tonight.” Without saying another word, she rose to her feet and left him between the faint print of her body in the grass, the quiet flowers and his fractured memory.  
  
  
Hours later, sometime in the afternoon, Brienne found Margaery exactly where she expected her to be: the coffee room on the 9th floor. Not in the mood for small talk and formalities, she decided to get straight to the point.  
  
“What did you and Jaime really talk about yesterday?” Margaery wasn’t the type of person to be easily thrown off, and so she waited patiently until her coffee was done before turning around. She casually leaned against the counter and reached the cup out to Brienne.  
  
“Hello to you, too. I thought I might see you today. Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I have very little experience with triggering a friend’s memory. And quite frankly, I have no experience at all with that friend’s girlfriend hiding hugely important details from him about… hugely important things.”  
  
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Brienne protested.

“If that’s your story. I really thought he knew about the police report, or lack thereof. Why would I purposefully put something between you two? Surely by now you must know I’m on your side?” Brienne finally let go of some of the tension and Margaery took notice right away. “I truly am sorry, Bri. I didn’t mean to betray your trust, but you have to understand that Jaime is a very dear friend of mine. He’s like family to me.”  
  
Brienne shook her head. “I’m the one who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”  
  
“Go on then,” Margaery replied. Brienne gave her a confused look. “You said you should be apologising. I’m presenting you with an opportunity here.”  
  
“Right, of course,” Brienne said. “I’m sorry.” Margaery walked over to her, took her hand and leaned forward as if she was about to tell her a secret.  
  
“I forgive you,” she declared dramatically. Brienne couldn’t help but smile. They drank their coffee in silence, watching a small group of people talking and laughing on the other side of the window.  
  
“Isn’t that Bolton’s wife?” Margaery suddenly asked. Brienne followed her gaze to find a pale woman with long, auburn hair. Brienne thought she looked both rich _and_ expensive and something about her reminded her of autumn.  
  
“I believe you’re right,” Brienne said.  
  
Margaery nodded and sipped her coffee. “What _are_ you going to do about that?”  
  
“About Bolton’s wife?” Brienne asked, confused.  
  
“Not his wife, you numpty, about _him_. You have to do something. You _are_ going to do _something_ , right?”  
  
Brienne shrugged and sighed desperately. “I have no idea.” She paused for a moment, observing Bolton’s wife. “What do you know about her?”  
  
Margaery frowned and said, “Not much. I believe she is the big boss’ wife’s sister. Small world, isn’t it?” Brienne had to let that sink in for a moment.  
  
“She’s Ned Stark’s sister-in-law?”  
  
Margaery nodded. “Lysa Arryn. Or Tully, actually. Although I suppose it’s Bolton-Tully now. Or Tully-Arryn-Bolton... I don’t know, it’s confusing.” Brienne ignored Margaery’s babbling.  
  
“Have they been together for a long time?”  
  
“A couple of years I believe, but they only got married last October. Apparently it was quite the wedding. I also heard she had an affair with this guy people call _Littlefinger_. Sounds promising, doesn’t it?” Brienne didn’t respond. “Why are you so interested?”  
  
Brienne brought the cup to her lips and blew over her coffee. “No reason,” she lied.  
  
They watched Lysa Bolton kiss goodbye to the people she’d been talking to, in a very theatrical way. Brienne rolled her eyes. _What is she, French?_ _Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were in fucking Paris._  
  
Suddenly, an idea sprouted from the sarcasm in her mind. Before she could even think about the consequences, she’d put her coffee down and found herself on her way out.  
  
“Where are you going?” Margaery asked, surprised by Brienne’s sudden determination to leave.  
  
“I’m going to _do_ something.”  
  
Brienne made it to the car park just in time, because Lysa’s fancy car already beeped and buzzed, its lights flickering hysterically for a second as she unlocked it from a distance.  
  
“Wait!” Brienne called. The woman turned around and looked Brienne up and down.  
  
“Can I help you?”  
  
“Actually… I think you can.” Brienne was out of breath from running down all those flights of stairs, and she could tell that her first impression wasn’t the best one. “Are you Lysa Bolton?” The woman’s suspicion visibly rose, and she lifted her sunglasses to uncover her large, blue eyes, pale, and watery.  
  
“And who might you be?” Brienne wasn’t planning on shaking her hand. In fact, she didn’t even step closer.  
  
“My name is Brienne. I work for your husband.”  
  
“And?” Lysa asked impatiently.  
  
“And… I think there are some things about him that you should know.”  
  
The woman straightened her back and narrowed her eyes. “What kind of things?” Brienne scanned the area for any people, or perhaps some ghosts fromt he past, who might be listening in on their conversation.  
  
“Mrs. Bolton, I’m not sure how to say it so I might as well say it as it is: your husband has a reputation of intimidating and harassing female employees.” Lysa, who was now visibly uncomfortable, started going through her bag with a strange, uneasy, aggression.  
  
“Nonsense,” she said as she lowered her sunglasses and turned around to her car. Brienne bolted forward and slammed the door shut, which startled Lysa.  
  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” she exclaimed.  
  
“Please, you have to believe me. This is a serious issue.” Mrs Bolton shook her head and pushed Brienne away, but Brienne was almost twice her size both in frame and in character.  
  
“I don’t have time for this. Now if you don’t mind-”  
  
“But I _do,_ I do mind. Look, I understand that it sounds awful, and it must come as a huge shock to you-” Brienne stopped mid sentence and studied her face. “Unless...”  
  
Lysa adjusted her sunglasses and shuffled around awkwardly. Half the strength in Brienne’s voice had gone. “Unless you already knew this.”  
  
“Have you lost your mind? What exactly are you trying accuse him of?” Brienne raised one eyebrow.  
  
“Something tells me you know perfectly well what I’m accusing him of,” she said.  
  
“Listen, you _child_ , you silly, _silly_ girl,” Lysa argued in a disdainful voice, “My husband is a very wealthy, desirable man. Don’t think I don’t know how _petty_ girls like you throw themselves at his feet. It happens all the time and it’s awful for him, having to let them down gently without destroying them. Trust me, girl, I know your little games, and I _won’t_ play along. It’s pathetic and disgraceful. Besides, let’s be honest...” She paused and looked Brienne up and down. “Who would be interesting in the likes of you? Now step aside before I have you removed.”  
  
A nervous chuckle escaped Brienne’s mouth. _Desirable?_ _T_ _hrowing ourselves at his feet_ _?_ Our _little games?_ _Is she serious?!_ It was easy to forget about the two security guards near the entrance of the building. Sometimes Brienne swore they were just sleeping upright and with their eyes open. Brienne looked back at the two men, let out an angry sigh and stepped aside.  
  
“Fine,” she said, “But tell me one thing, Mrs Bolton. How often does he come home from work with scratches or bruises on his skin? Is he a clumsy man, your husband? It seems rather odd for someone with an office job, wouldn’t you agree?” Her voice was sharp and cold as ice. Lysa looked up at Brienne, who now towered over her in the blazing sunlight of the afternoon, and her pale eyes betrayed a flicker of confusion before she pulled herself together again.  
  
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she said as she put her bag down on the passenger seat and put her seatbelt on. “I feel sorry for you.” With those last words, she slammed the door shut and drove away.

By the time Brienne drove home to collect her mail, the sky was overcast. She hadn’t seen this many clouds in weeks, but the meteorologists and weathermen maintained that it could be weeks before the first drop of rain. The trees were starting to shed their leaves, trying to save water and strength and Brienne thought it looked as though they were crying. In some places, the sunny fields once green and full of life, were now arid and barren like the earth was tired, and ill, and sad.  
  
Everything was still exactly as she had left it and although Brienne had lived there for almost a year, and she enjoyed the familiar smell of her apartment, it didn’t feel like coming home. She watered the plants and found her black swimsuit in one of her drawers. When she decided she couldn’t hide from forever, she locked the door and went back to Jaime.  
  
He didn’t seem to be home when she arrived, which was odd. Jaime hadn’t left his house or garden since his accident, not even with Brienne. His brand new car stood sadly waiting in the carport.  
  
“Hello?” she called, but all she heard was the echo of her own voice. “Jaime? Anyone?” Nothing. The silence was almost awkward. Jaime’s keys were on the counter and the book he’d been reading lay page-down on the coffee table next to his glass of wine. _Maybe he got lost in his garden trying to find his way back home_ , she thought, biting back a chuckle.  
  
Relieved that Jaime wasn’t around, she made herself some tea and sat down in the kitchen. How was she supposed to be behave, after the way they’d parted in the morning? What should she say? Brienne was no wordsmith and often struggled to express herself, although she supposed she’d done a pretty good job in her encounter with Lysa Bolton.  
  
The granite kitchen counter was nice and cool under Brienne’s elbows and she rested her chin on her hands, watching the steam rising from her tea in thin, elegant curls. Outside, robins and sparrows seemed to be playing chase when all of a sudden, something startled them and they all vanished into the shelter of the trees. Brienne’s mug quivered against the stone for just a second, before the entire house started shaking and there was a low, ear-splitting boom. The windows rattled and Brienne dropped to the floor and covered her head with her arms. It was only a couple of seconds before the noise and the trembling stopped. Brienne slowly lowered her arms and looked around. To her surprise, none of the windows had shattered. The room looked as though nothing had happened.  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brienne muttered under her breath. “What the hell was that?” The calm and quiet that had only just returned, were rudely disturbed by another strange crashing sound above her head, followed by a rumbling noise. She scrambled to her feet and ran upstairs, where she met Jaime, stumbling out of a room and closing the door behind him.  
  
“Thank god you’re okay,” she said relieved. “Was that an earthquake?” Jaime wiped something invisible off his sleeve and waddled towards her.  
  
“I’m not sure. I’ve never heard about earthquakes in this area before. Are you hurt?” Brienne shook her head.  
  
“I’m fine. I was in the kitchen. I thought the windows would shatter.” Jaime was still dusting off his clothes. “What were you doing?”  
  
“Nothing.” His reply came so quickly that it gave Brienne a strange feeling. “I was looking for something.”  
  
She nodded slowly. “Oh… What were you looking for?”  
  
Jaime avoided her eyes and replied, “Just this little sort of… _thing_ that I put in a box a while ago, it doesn’t matter. Did anything break?” His cryptic behaviour was confusing. It made her suspicious. Brienne looked over Jaime’s shoulder into the long corridor and saw three doors. The one that stood out, for no particular reason, was the one that Jaime had come stumbling through. Brienne had never noticed it before today. In fact, she had never been to this mysterious part of the house.  
  
“No, nothing’s broken,” she finally said, “At least, I don’t think so. I didn’t really look around because I heard something and thought you were injured.”  
  
Jaime smiled and walked past her to the stairs. “One of the bookcases collapsed. It was an old thing. The wood was probably rotten.”  
  
“Oh,” said Brienne. “Do you need me to clean it up?” She had barely finished her sentence before he whirled around and said, “No. No need. Just leave it for the housekeeper.”  
  
Brienne frowned. “Are you sure? She’s not coming until Tuesday. I don’t mind-”  
  
“Yes, I’m sure,” he cut her off. “Let’s go downstairs.” As Brienne waited for Jaime to limp down the stairs without breaking his neck, she realised the house had gone very dark and looked through the narrow window above the front door across the entrance hall.  
  
“Jaime,” she said. “What is that?” Jaime turned around to Brienne and followed her gaze.  
  
There were clouds as dark as onyx rising in an otherwise immaculate blue sky. Brienne quickly hurried down the stairs, careful not to knock Jaime over. When she opened the door and walked outside, her mouth fell open.

“Fucking hell,” Jaime gasped when he finally joined her in the driveway. For a moment they observed the poisonous black pillows in the sky growing larger and larger still. Like scary monsters, they wrapped their evil arms around the sun, as if they were about to suffocate it. “Get back inside,” he said. “Quickly, go. Make sure the windows are closed and turn on the TV.” He closed the door behind her and started climbing the stairs again. “I’ll check upstairs.”  
  
“Why, what’s going on?” Brienne called after him.  
  
“I think _Dragonstone_ just exploded,” he explained as he dragged himself up the stairs. Brienne had never heard the name before.  
  
“Dragonstone?”  
  
“It’s a chemical plant the size of a small village. From the sky, it looks like a dragon. And all those chemicals, I mean... There aren’t any houses around it, mine is one of the closest in the area. I think that’s because they always knew-” Jaime was interrupted by the swell of a frightening sound. The warning sirens were so loud, Brienne could feel their echo in her bones and it sent shivers down her spine. For a second she felt like she couldn’t move, frozen in place by the ominous cry of the sirens.  
  
Jaime had almost reached the top of the stairs and turned around to face her. “These flames are extremely difficult to put out,” he said. “If Dragonstone really did explode... Fire will reign.” And with that, he climbed the last steps and disappeared.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what she plays, it's Careful hearts by Josh Kramer.

The explosion of Dragonstone was all over the news. People in the entire Kingswood area were ordered by the local government to stay inside with all the doors and windows closed until further notice. As Jaime had predicted, the firemen were fighting a battle they weren’t equipped to win. The flames rose sky-high, like mighty red dragons with angry yellow eyes, breathing fire and destruction all around. Columns of orange and red like skyscraping trees, falling over one by one, every branch blazing yet another trail for the merciless flames. Firefighters from all over the region were flying in to help. Because the forest hadn’t seen as much as a single drop of rain in over two months, flames spread through the woods like oxygen through the air.  
  
A heavy blanket of smoke crept through the Kingswood, so thick it seemed like they found themselves trapped in an endless night. The sun could easily be mistaken for a weary moon, and when it was dark, the flames lit up the heavens from below. Jaime wasn’t sure if they would be able to stay or needed to be evacuated. They were trapped with nowhere to go and it was easy to lose all sense of time. With the drama of the day quite literally being overshadowed by demons in the sky, Brienne and Jaime stayed up for most of the night, watching the news in silence, until Brienne fell asleep on the sofa. When she woke, Jaime was still up, his tired, red eyes betraying that he hadn’t slept at all. For a moment upon opening her eyes, confusion and disorientation took hold of her. She hadn’t even noticed that Jaime had covered her with a blanket sometime during the early morning hours.  
  
“What time is it?” she asked in a husky morning voice.  
  
“Almost 8,” Jaime replied.  
  
“Did I miss anything?” He shook his head and then stretched his arms.  
  
“So far, it doesn’t look like we need to evacuate, but it could be a few days before we can go out again.”  
  
“ _A few days_?” Brienne repeated desperately.  
  
“Well, yes. Half the forest is on fire and the air is filled with toxic fumes.”

“Oh.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and searched for her phone between the cushions. After staring at the TV screen for a long moment, she left the room to call the office. When Roose Bolton answered the phone, it was obvious to Brienne that he wasn’t alone. His kindness was so terrifyingly unnatural that it raised the hairs on her arms. They quickly agreed that she would try to do some work from home until they would be allowed to leave the house again. Brienne’s laptop was an old thing and could barely run the software she needed to do her job, but it beat sitting around the house doing nothing, wondering when she would be allowed to leave.  
  
It was a strange feeling. She had always been fine on her own. In fact, she could stay inside for days on end without even talking to anybody. Being forced to stay home for a couple of days had never sounded like a huge punishment. But now that this lazy fantasy had become reality and she was _actually_ trapped inside with the flames of destruction slowly closing in on them, all she wanted was to run away. Oh yes, we always want what we can’t have.  
  
It wasn’t long until Brienne returned to the living room, but as she walked the steps and saw Jaime on the sofa with his arms behind his head, all movement seeped from her veins and her body went numb. There was a knot in her stomach and a storm inside her head. It felt as though someone had taken her life, put it in a little mason jar and given it a good old shake, before emptying it out on the concrete. Now she was face down on the cold ground, with all her broken pieces scattered all around her.  
  
What was happening to her life? To _her_? She felt overwhelmed by Jaime’s memory _suddenly_ coming back, after weeks of part oblivion, part imagination and a whole lot of misty darkness. Now he was right there again. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at her. He found his way back and it frightened her more than words could say. He’d never been _gone_ of course, but there had been such a strange sense of distance between them. Even though she had spent the first few moths trying to resist him stealing into her life and her heart, now it was painfully clear that the fear of losing him in one way or another had become almost paralysing.  
  
For a while it had felt as though time stood still. They were on separate islands with a broken bridge connecting them. Brienne simply didn’t know how to reach him over the stormy ocean in between. And now he was confessing all these, these _things_ … And she’d asked him if there was someone else and he’d said no and then she’d just _left_ him, and now the world around her was quite literally on fire. And then there was Roose Bolton. And his wife. _Gods,_ _w_ _hat was I thinking?_  
  
In the room, on the sofa, Jaime rubbed his hand over his face and combed though his hair. He seemed different. _Everything_ seemed different and she didn’t know what to do. All she wanted was to run away, return to a few months ago when she was fine pretending to be _fine_ , in her tiny old apartment, with Renly as her only decent colleague and Sandor as her only connection to the world outside herself and her job. No friends, no family, no fear of losing someone that wasn’t hers to lose. But now she was stuck in a game of pinball, and someone was frantically smashing the buttons on the side, launching her from left to right until she didn’t even know where she was going or what she felt. No, actually… She knew quite well what she felt. She just didn’t know how to deal with that.  
  
Even from where she was standing, so far away from him, there was a tension between them more suffocating than the smoke outside. It made it hard to breathe, so it took a while for Brienne to find her voice.  
  
“I um… I’ll be in my room, doing some work.” Jaime looked back at her and seemed to want to say something. Brienne held her breath, thinking he was about to start a whole thing about how she was avoiding him. He didn’t.  
  
All he did was look at her with those piercing, blue eyes, more _Jaime_ than she had seen him weeks, and smile the weakest of smiles, and say, “Okay.”  
  
 _Doing some work_ actually meant going back and forth between staring at her laptop screen and out the window. Even though the fire was still relatively far away and the windows were closed, there was a strange whooshing sound, like when you’re in bed and you can hear your own blood flowing. It was only audible when she was completely still.  
  
The sound of her phone ringing startled her back into reality. Brienne didn’t recognise the phone number.  
  
Right before it went to voicemail, she picked up the phone and even before she could say her name, the person on the other end called, “Finally!” Brienne immediately recognised the voice.  
  
“Margaery?”  
  
“I’ve tried calling Jaime like a hundred times!”  
  
“How did you get my number?” Margaery scoffed, almost indignantly.  
  
“Well, if you must know, I asked Renly. Why, is it a problem that I have your number?” Brienne let out a soundless sigh.  
  
“No. No, of course not.”  
  
“Well good, because I’ve been worried sick.”  
  
“We’re okay. The fire is still pretty far away and there are helicopters and everything. Jaime says we probably won’t need to evacuate.”  
  
“Oh, yes of course, the fire,” Margaery said. “That too. I’m glad you’re alive.” She sounded almost sincere.  
  
Brienne stood up and walked over to the window. The sky was still so dark that she couldn’t see beyond the garden. “ _That too_? Isn’t that why you called?”  
  
“Well, no, it isn’t. Sorry.”  
  
 _A strange thing to apologise for: not calling_ _because your_ _house could’ve burn_ _ed_ _to the ground with you in it_. _What else could-_  
  
“Someone told me you were seen outside the office, having a heated discussion with Lysa Bolton. Tell me you did _not_ confront her!”  
  
Even though Margaery could not see her, Brienne felt awkward enough to start blushing.  
  
“Oh, that,” she said, trying to find a convincing lie in the rubble of her mind. “No- I mean yes, technically, I suppose that, maybe I did.”  
  
“Technically you _suppose_ that _maybe_ , you did?” Margaery repeated in a sceptical voice.  
  
“Yes, yes I know, I… I didn’t know what came over me. I saw an opportunity and, for some reason, in the moment, I- I wasn’t thinking... Or maybe I was.” She shook her head, confused. But what was there to be confused about? She had done what she thought was best in that specific situation. What else could she have done? _Nothing_? She had already done so much of that. Doing nothing had become like a heavy chain around her neck and her ankles and something, perhaps the conversation she had with Jaime that morning, had changed something in Brienne. Something had just, sort of, _snapped,_ causing a rush that didn’t allow her to carefully weigh her options. The shackles _had_ to come off. It wasn’t until later that she started thinking about the consequences.  
  
Her voice was small when she said, “I know it was wrong, I just-” Maergery huffed loudly.  
  
“ _Wrong_? Are you kidding me? Brienne, that was a brilliant move! Reckless, stupid – dangerous, even – but absolutely _brilliant_!” Brienne’s eyes widened in surprise. Margaery must have really meant it if it was worth calling her by her full name.  
  
Too bewildered to say something, Brienne just stared at a painting on the wall. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to let the whole thing go, you know. I told my grandmother that I didn’t think you even had a plan. That you were going to let him get away with it. But gods, honestly, even if you _did_ have a plan, I _never_ expected it to be quite so… so _radical_.”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t necessarily a _plan_ , per se,” Brienne muttered.  
  
“Nevertheless,” Margaery said, “It was a bold move. You must tell me everything.” And she did. Margaery shrieked and gasped and even giggled. There wasn’t much left of the shame and regret Brienne had felt earlier. Exhilaration had completely taken over.  
  
Of course, she had no answer to the question what would happen now. All she knew was that Lysa wasn’t very open to having a conversation with Brienne – can you blame her, really? - and that she was not very happy with Brienne interfering in her marriage.  
  
“Yes, well… You can’t make someone listen to what they’re not willing to hear,” Margaery pointed out, adding “God, I sound like my grandmother.”  
  
When Brienne finished her story, Margaery asked, “What does Jaime think about all this?” It was as if someone punched her in the stomach. The mention of his name brought her exhilaration and bravery down like a house of cards.  
  
“Jaime?” Her voice was high and weak and she cleared her throat in an attempt to make it go away. “Oh, I um- I haven’t… I haven’t told him yet.” Brienne inhaled the silence and felt it sting in her throat. Even though she didn’t really need – or want – to know what Margaery had to say, the silence was more uncomfortable than the predictability of her words.  
  
She took a deep breath in and asked, “Something you’d like to say?”  
  
“Oh, there are several things I would like to say,” Margaery replied. “But I’m not going to. It’s your life, your relationship.” Brienne was about to refute, but Margaery didn’t let her. “Yes, yes,” she said, and Brienne could almost see her rolling her eyes at her. “I know. You’re not in a relationship, _blah blah_. We’ve been over this already. Anyway, I’d love to stay and chat but there is money to be made and there are people to annoy. Tell Jaime not to bother calling me back. Thanks, see you soon! Oh, and if the flames are close enough to touch, it’s probably time to start running. Bye!”  
  
  
Early in the afternoon Brienne had run out of things to do and reasons why she should even bother, and her laptop started overheating. Reluctantly, she dragged herself to the living room, where Jaime was still in the exact same place she had left him, although he did look like he had slept for a bit. His laptop was on the coffee table, next to his phone and the reading glasses he always had lying around, but never, _never_ wore. Jaime was starting to get back into work, but found himself easily overstimulated, which resulted in severe headaches that would only dissolve through sleep.  
  
“So, what now?” Brienne asked when she entered the lounge, clenching her jaw at how harsh she sounded.  
  
Jaime shrugged without looking up. “Well, we stay inside. We read, we talk, we go for a swim.” She had to fight the urge to wrinkle her nose at the very idea of continuing the conversation she had so abruptly ended the day before. Somehow talking didn’t sound all that appealing to her. There were simply too many things left unsaid and she feared what would happen if those words would be thrust into the narrowing space between them, now that there was no way to escape the consequences. The weight of their unspoken words, their mutual confusion and the countless questions they had but didn’t know how to ask, was unbearable. It pulled her down like an anchor in the sea.  
  
“Would it be okay if I visited the um, _book room_ upstairs?” Jaime seemed surprised that she felt the need to ask but also relieved that she hadn’t lost her tongue.  
  
“Of course. Why don’t I join you?”  
  
“Actually, I’d rather go alone. If you don’t mind.” Even though he said he didn’t, Brienne found it hard to believe him. Still, she’d rather hurt his feelings than being forced to have an actual conversation with him. Jaime gave her a more or less understanding smile and she turned around.  
  
 _I can’t avoid him forever,_ she thought as she climbed the stairs. _Not when we’re locked inside the same house._ She looked behind her at the relative immensity of the entrance hall and figured that it was a good thing, at least, that they were at Jaime’s rich-and-fancy-people house, and not Brienne’s tiny shoebox apartment.  
  
When she reached the top of the great marble staircase, she stared down the landing to her right. Involuntarily, her attention was drawn to the door opposite the bannister. She immediately felt the storm she’d been dealing with coming back to life. The wind that was her curiosity ruffled the leaves of her conscience, but her conscience was very, _very_ clear. It told her that she’d already done more than enough snooping, reading Jaime’s text message. Even if that was _partially_ accidental. Other voices were telling her a quick look wouldn’t hurt anyone. Of course her conscience won, painfully pointing out what a mess she was _guaranteed_ to create if she would find, well, _anything,_ really _._ No. It wasn’t honourable and it wasn’t _right_ , and so she didn’t do it. Instead, she turned left towards the magnificent double doors.  
  
The room, which was more like library-museum-music-art gallery than a _book room_ (whatever that meant), smelled exactly the way remembered from the first – and last – time she’d been there. It smelled like exotic rugs from faraway countries, damp wood and dusty old paper. About half of the lights were broken, something she hadn’t noticed last time. Despite the floor-length windows, the room was dark, even during the day. Especially now that the outside world was a dark place round-the-clock. The space was huge, larger than Brienne’s entire apartment.  
  
The walls were painted navy blue and mostly covered by heavy chestnut bookcases or shelving units with the most extraordinary art pieces. The furniture too, was dark and heavy. Against the tired light of the sun and the fire in the distance, she could see the dust twirling around. Although Jaime – of course – had a housekeeper, it was quite obvious that this particular room hadn’t been properly cleaned in a long, long while. She supposed that it wasn’t really necessary though, because Jaime never used it. He didn’t really use any of the rooms upstairs. Brienne looked over her shoulder as if to see right through the walls and into the mystery room down the hall. _Except for that one, apparently,_ she thought.  
  
She spent close to an hour going through rows of books and admiring some of the art that stood lonely and forgotten on their shelves like sad, beautiful children in an orphanage, hungry for some love and care. It seemed to her that just from looking at the pieces, the glass and stone of which they were made, started shining again.  
  
The grand piano on the other side of the room drew her attention and instantly, she felt a tingle in her bones and a twitch in her hands. The memory crashed over her mind like a tidal wave and she could almost hear the notes she played that evening. The piece she played for him, the same one that coincidentally (or not?) cradled him with patient arms, caressed him with loving hands as he opened his eyes again, for the first time since his accident.  
  
Before she knew it, Brienne found herself back on the stool, looking down at her hands as her fingertips slid over the ivory keys. For the first time in a long time, she thought of her mother, Julianne, who often seemed little more than a princess in a children’s book that she would sometimes revisit. It was all so long ago. Mostly Brienne remembered how she always smelled of jasmine and the ocean. She could still smell it, sometimes. Her mother loved music almost as much as she loved Brienne. Especially piano. As a child, Brienne would sit on her lap and watch her as she played.  
  
Through the years, she had lost most memories of her mother, but there was one moment in particular that she could recall like it was only yesterday. This most precious memory decorated and lit up her cloudy mind like a crystal chandelier or a single candle in the night. Brienne must have been just 7 years old and although she was a skinny child, there was barely enough room on her mother’s lap, because she had to share it with her unborn brother. Brienne’s father, Selwyn, was reading the Sunday news in his leather armchair by the window, as he so often did.  
  
On this particular day, her mother held Brienne’s hands softly in her own and kissed the knuckles of her little fingers, one by one. “You have such lovely hands, my sweet Brienne,” her mother told her. “Strong, with long and elegant fingers. It would be a waste not to let them play the piano.” The memory conjured a sad smile on her face. Brienne looked down. She could never see it. Her hands weren’t very elegant in her opinion, but it’s true her fingers were long, and slim, and straight. They made it easier to play the more difficult chords. Or at least, that’s what her mother told her. Brienne chuckled. Julianne would have told her anything to convince her to play.  
  
“Playing an instrument is like learning a secret language that all can understand, but few can speak,” her mother had said. “Once you’re fluent in the language of music, you will find it opens a secret door through which you can speak directly to one’s heart.” Brienne could almost feel how her mother had gently tapped her on the chest. “All musicians are poets, just as all poets are musicians. Music is powerful gift. Remember that.” And she did remember it, all her days.  
  
It was difficult for Selwyn to speak about the loss of his wife and unborn son and so they didn’t, for a long time. He missed her more than words could ever express. But where words failed, music spoke. They grieved together, through her music. Brienne gave her father a voice and words to tell his wife how much he missed her, just by playing. She sighed, resurfacing after a dive into the past, coming up for air.  
  
As she continued to reminisce about her youth, her mind wandered off to Jaime. On the surface, it seemed like he had nothing to do with this, but he waltzed right into her mind and when he did, the music started flowing through her veins. It just came to her, like magic. She simply thought of him and her body did the rest. As her hands started playing, she could almost see the notes in front of her eyes. They were colourful and warm and they were dancing.  
  
When she was done, she felt more wholesome and at peace than she had in a very long time, like her worries had drifted away on sound waves, even if it was only for a little while. Brienne slowly closed the lid and was about to leave when something caught her eye. In a row of perfectly organised boxes, on the lowest shelf of one of the countless bookcases, one box seemed strangely out of order. Overwhelmed by curiosity, she pulled the box from shelf and opened it. The voice that had so pressingly convinced her not to snoop around, now seemed to belong to someone else.  
  
The box was filled with envelopes addressed to Jaime. Brienne looked at the stamps. Some were sent recently, only a couple of weeks ago. Others dated back to two years ago. Sometimes his name was written in black, sometimes in blue and occasionally even red or gold. In some cases, the letters were all smudged, like it had been out in the rain. Other times the paper had yellowed and the ink faded from being exposed to light for a long time. Some were creased with worn corners, frail and old, while others were as good as new, the paper still smooth and crisp.  
  
There was only one thing they all had in common, other than being addressed to Jaime, and that was that not a single envelope had been opened.  
  
“Brienne, do you-” Jaime’s voice startled her so much that she immediately threw the envelopes back into the box and slammed the lid on top. “What were you doing?”  
  
Brienne quickly got up. “Nothing, I-”  
  
“Were you going through my stuff?”  
  
“No,” she said, but promptly realised that wasn’t true. “Or, well, yes, technically I was.”  
  
“What do you mean _technically_?” As he limped towards her, Brienne was frozen in place, feeling incredibly guilty and embarrassed and afraid to look him in the eye. There wasn’t much left of the wholesome calmness she had felt only minutes ago. The storm inside that had calmed down so much that she had apparently forgotten all reason and decency, now exploded into a tropical cyclone and she couldn’t even string more than a few words together in a way that would make sense.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” she said in a small voice. Jaime snatched the box from her hands and put it back where it belonged.  
  
“Sorry for going through my stuff, or sorry you got caught?”  
  
“Both, I don’t know. Jesus, Jaime, I was just playing the piano and I saw the box and it looked… _weird_ , in a way, so I just-” She really _was_ sorry, but more than that she was angry at herself. Angry and disappointed.  
  
“Didn’t your parents teach you not to stick your big nose in other people’s business?” Brienne frowned at him.  
  
“My nose is not that big,” she argued. “Besides, how was I supposed to know it was a stash of secret… _love letters._ ” Jaime kicked against the box and straightened his back.  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.”  
  
“Didn’t _your_ parents teach _you_ it’s rude not to read people’s letters?” It was truly the best she could think of.  
  
“Don’t bring my parents into this,” Jaime snapped. He turned around and limped back to the door with Brienne on his heels.

“Why not? You brought mine into it. You never talk about them anyway. You don’t talk about _any_ of them. Not even Tyrion!” _Careful now,_ warned a quiet voice inside her head.  
  
“What is this really about? Is it about my parents? Or about the letters?” Brienne wasn’t sure. Neither? Both? As she followed him down the stairs, she had clearly forgotten about her determination to avoid talking to him at all cost.  
  
“Why didn’t you open them?” she pressed.  
  
“I don’t see how this is any of your business.” He made a good point.  
  
“You’re right,” Brienne admitted. “It isn’t. I guess I just… It doesn’t matter. I can’t justify going through your stuff and I shouldn’t have done it. I had no right.” She grabbed him by the arm to make him turn around and face her. “Jaime… I truly am sorry.” He sighed.

“You said that already.”  
  
“Because I mean it.”  
  
“I know. It’s fine… I shouldn’t have overreacted. It’s just some old get-well-soon cards and other nonsense.” Brienne frowned.  
  
 _Nonsense? That’s not very kind._ _Why would anyone throw a_ _few simple card_ _in a box,_ _unopened,_ _and act completely hysterical when some_ _body_ sort of _accidentally_ _finds them?  
_  
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Jaime shrugged.  
  
“It’s a bunch of bullshit really. _Get well soon, best wishes, I’m so sorry, take care_.” He made a gagging noise. “Pathetic. People are _idiots_.”  
  
“So you’ve said,” Brienne recalled, slightly surprised by his sudden fury.  
  
“Have I? Oh well. Must be true then. Anyway, they can take their little show elsewhere. I’m not interested and I’m not buying any of it.” Now Brienne was plainly confused.  
  
“Buying what?”  
  
“The so-called _kindness_. I know what they _really_ thought of me.” Brienne blinked in confusion. _Did he just say_ think _or_ thought _?_ _And who_ _the fuck_ _are_ they? She followed him into the kitchen. Before she could say or ask anything, he continued, “They called me Lion of Lannister to my face and whispered-” He abruptly came to a halt and Brienne almost bumped into him. “And they whispered behind my back.” Jaime filled a glass under the tap and finished it in one gulp.  
  
“Whispered _what_? Why would you even think that? People love you! It’s always Jaime-this and Jaime-that. It’s bloody fucking annoying because they don’t know how _i_ _nfuriating_ you really are!” He smiled at her attempt to make him laugh, but there was no happiness in his smile. Just sadness.  
  
“They do _now,_ ” he agreed. “At Winterfell. But you know I’m not from around here. I wasn’t a great person before.” She narrowed her eyes, her cheeks flushed with the need to understand.  
  
“Before _what_?”  
  
“Before I came here. Before I met you, and everything changed.” She didn’t even seem to hear the part involving herself.  
  
“But- I don’t understand. You are such a popular guy. People were talking about you _weeks_ before you even came to work at Winterfell. You were even in that magazine! And supposedly one of the best businessmen of our entire generation. A marketing _star_. A fucking comet, smashing into the industry.” She slammed one fist in the other hand. Jaime simply nodded and stared out the window.  
  
“Maybe I was as good as people said, once. Or maybe people just love to overpraise a famous name. Score points with the big boss, I don’t fucking know.” He shook his head. “It’s one big show, really, and we all get to play our parts. I cheer for them and they cheer for me. Until I forget my lines and I fuck up the big scene. I’m not there for the grand finale and the whole house comes down. _Boom_.”  
  
It felt like a short circuit in Brienne’s brain. Outside, the helicopters were flying over with their rotor blades slashing through the sky. Then, as if he hadn’t just told her the most confusing and cryptic story ever, Jaime turned around and said. “I have to call Tyrion. He’s been calling and texting non-stop. It’s driving me insane.” He took out his phone and left through the door in the back of the kitchen.  
  
Brienne was left completely perplexed and slowly lowered herself onto one of the kitchen chairs.  
  
 _What just happened?_  
  
One moment they were arguing about a pile of postcards and the next he was telling this weird story about playing parts and people whispering behind his back. Their conversations, her thoughts, her feelings – everything was spinning like she was back in that mason jar and someone was shaking it like crazy. The jar was the house of glass that she was trapped in with all these demons lurking from every angle. She was a puppet on a string, dancing to a dizzying melody for a very cruel puppet master. She didn’t _want_ to dance anymore, but she couldn’t stop. She had no control. The confusion she felt was so overwhelming that it frightened her.  
  
All this time, _she_ had been the broken one. She’d been ignorant enough or too self-centred to believe that he wasn't just a spoiled child with daddy issues and when he said he didn’t want to talk about it, she had just let it go. Every time he had put up with her _bullshit_ , her storms and eruptions, just to be there for her, to show her patience and kindness and understanding. And she had _let_ him. She had allowed herself to pull him into the darkness of her past, worrying about if he still remembered everything she’d told him and what that would mean for them.  
  
Now she suddenly realised that maybe his darkness was just as real as hers, and just as valid and terrifying. And just like hers, it was like almost like a person following him around with their hands around his throat, casting a huge shadow over his entire soul. Brienne's head was spinning. Maybe she had mistaken his strength for arrogance. Maybe he wasn’t angry and ungrateful, but afraid. Not rude, but hurt and lost and broken.  
  
Bienne could see it now, that Jaime’s ghosts and her own were made of the same darkness, just wearing different faces, different names.  
  
She sighed and quietly wondered whose names and faces _his_ ghosts carried. Would she recognise them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When did we lose our way? Consumed by shadows, swallowed whole by the darkness. Does this darkness have a name? Is it your name?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the final countdown, kids! Only 3 more chapters after this one. I'm sorry if it's a bit long. I got a little carried away at some point.

Brienne didn’t see Jaime again until early in the afternoon on the next day. She had heard him on the phone, and when – 2 hours later – she knocked on his door and asked if he wanted to eat something, he said he wasn’t hungry. She stood outside his room for a long time, doing nothing. There was a foreign urge to talk to him knocking deep inside her chest, pulling on her.  
  
Had someone taken over her brain? Where did these feelings come from? Brienne had never felt the need to share _anything_ with _anyone_ and deep down she had always thought that even Jaime would never _truly_ understand her, no matter how hard he tried. Now, something was rapidly changing inside her, a gentle spring thaw settled over the ice of her pain and her past. A tiny flame flickering, echoing against the void. For so long, she had carried the weight of her life by herself, thinking that that was the only way. She never even realised that her feet had slowly started to sink into the earth and that one day, she wouldn’t be able to keep her head up anymore. The tiny flame was one of hope. Hope that out of all the people in the world, she had found the one that could change everything. And why? Because she was starting to understand him like he understood her?  
  
One moment they were just two planets in the same galaxy, orbiting around one another, and the next they had both exploded and their shattered pieces drifted past and over and _through_ each other. Brienne felt ablaze with all the things she wished she could say. The words sat burning in her chest and stinging in her throat. Why had she immediately assumed the worst when she heard or read about Lyanna, Sophie or Ella? Perhaps Sophie was no more than a harmless ghost from his past. Perhaps Lyanna was just a friend or a family member. Maybe Ella was a clingy ex he couldn’t get rid off.  
  
If only she could be courageous; burst through his door and straight up ask him. _Who are they? Tell me about them. I need to know_. But why risk breaking this fragile chain of gold that so delicately tied the two of them together. The very thing that Brienne thought only existed in her imagination, or not at all. The thing she knew in her heart would never happen, that could _never_ work. Or maybe it could...  
  
 _F_ _alling in love with you. I remember that too_.  
  
How had these words suddenly gained new meaning? Before they were empty, like they had been muffled in her head; angry hands of self-loathing, fear and trust issues had tried to keep the words down, so that her heart would not hear them, would not feel them. And at first, it didn’t. Not _really_. Although his words had reached her ears, their meaning was filtered out by a barrier that she had unknowingly built to protect herself. Thinking she couldn’t survive the pain of rejection or abandonment, it was easier not to hope. But this little flame inside was not easily extinguished.  
  
After a minute or so of standing at his door, doing nothing, she realised he wasn’t coming out and took her desperate thoughts to the kitchen, only to realise that she wasn’t hungry either. Instead of eating she went to bed, where she could be alone with all her questions and thoughts about the thing she wanted most in the world. Lying on her back in the silence of the early evening, her chest felt so flooded with feelings, she feared there wasn’t enough room for her lungs to keep breathing.  
  
The next morning the outside world was more orange and grey than black. Brienne could _sort of_ tell that it was day, but there were no birds in the trees and no squirrels or bunnies in the garden. They had all fled their little homes.  
  
When Jaime finally showed his face around lunch time, a lightning bolt came crashing through her entire body. Brienne had spent the entire night – the _entire_ night! - planning out what to say and how to say it until at last, around 6 am, she settled on straight up asking him about his life. Something like, “Hi Jaime, I was wondering if you would please tell me a little bit about your family.”

Of course, those plans vanished into thin air as soon as she laid eyes on him and his wickedly charming smile. _Ugh_.  
  
All that came out was a small, pathetic, “Hi,” and then her voice was gone.  
  
“Hey,” he said without looking at her. “Sorry I didn’t-” Then his eyes found her and lingered on her face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” The ground beneath her started slowly collapsing.  
  
“I’m not. Looking at you. Like that. In any particular way.” Jaime frowned at her and asked if she wanted some coffee. The three large cups she had already drunk in the morning did not stop her from accepting the offer.  
  
“So, as I was saying: I’m sorry that I kind of disappeared last night. I had a terrible headache.” He reached over the counter to hand her the mug and her stomach started acting all funny and _ridiculous_. Jaime was now visibly searching her face, trying to find what the hell was _wrong_ with her. “Aaand... I’m sorry for being weird yesterday,” he tried in an attempt to change the atmosphere, still watching her with slightly narrowed eyes. “I’d appreciate it if we could just… leave that, for now.” A cold settled over her bones, that reached all the way into her very soul.  
  
“Oh… Sure.” No matter how hard she tried to focus on the sensation of the cold, smooth counter tops and the little dark stain on a jar to her left, _nothing_ could distract her from the look in his eyes and the way he furrowed his brow.  
  
“You’re right,”he suddenly announced, sitting up straight. “Let’s not talk. I was planning on doing some therapy today, since, you know… we can’t go anywhere but we’re not in immediate danger of burning to death. At least... not today.” There was a light-heartedness to his words that made it slightly easier to breathe. “Maybe you could help me? Unless you have work to do, of course.” Brienne immediately thought of the last time she had tried to _help_ him with his therapy.  
  
“In the pool, you mean?” she asked. Jaime laughed and touched the side of his head.

“Oh please no. I can still feel a bump from when you almost knocked me out. No, I was thinking of doing something less dangerous. Maybe some hand exercises?” Brienne’s eyes widened. “You were right, you know. If I don’t practice, it will never get better. And if my hand never goes back to normal, well...”  
  
“Then you’ll train your other hand. Hold on.” Brienne jumped off her stool to get a notebook and a pen from the living room. “Well? Go on, try to write something.” Jaime grabbed the pen with his left hand, and placed it in the palm of his right. His fingers could barely grasp around the thin piece of stationery and Brienne realised that she had no idea how bad it really was, until now. Jaime clenched his jaw, concentrating on closing his hand, but he couldn’t do it and his frustration grew visibly.  
  
“Why don’t you try it like this?” Brienne suggested, taking the pen from him and showing him a different way to hold it, before carefully placing it back in his hand. This new strategy seemed to work, because the pen didn’t fall flat on the page as soon as it touched the paper. “Good!” She exclaimed excitedly, but Jaime replied with an underwhelmed glare.  
  
“Great, I can hold a pen. _Hurrah_.” Brienne ignored his sarcasm.  
  
“Try to draw a circle.” Whatever he drew looked nothing like a circle and Jaime, of course, saw that too. He threw the pen away and shoved the notebook across the counter.  
  
“This is bullshit,” he growled, getting up from his stool.  
  
“Jaime... You have to try.”  
  
“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” he sneered. It sounded like something she would say.  
  
“Please.” Before she realised it, she had her fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Please.” Jaime slowly turned around and sat down again. Defeat and disappointment covered his face and crashed through his steel blue eyes in violent waves.  
  
For a moment they just sat there in silence, their hands meeting halfway between their bodies and Brienne feeling unable to let go. She slowly turned his hand over, studying it, and gently brushed her thumb over the new scars. The flesh was still pink and raw and when she pressed down a little bit, she could still feel the bumps underneath his skin, from where the pins had kept his bones in place. Jaime quietly watched how her thumb followed the curve of his palm and traced the lines inside. Her cool touch was rhythmic, graceful like a dance.  
  
“Does it hurt?” He shook his head.  
  
“It’s quite numb in that entire area.” As she traced the marks with her finger, her eyes slowly met his.  
  
“Here?” she asked. Without breaking eye contact, he nodded. Jaime let her turn his hand around again. “Can you squeeze my hand?” Although weak and trembling, she felt his grip tighten around her hand and her heart. She smiled and said, “See? That’s good! A nice firm handshake.”  
  
The look in his eyes cashed into her with deafening force. Suddenly, his thumb moved across the back of her hand. Brienne’s smile faded, but she didn’t look away. His touch was soft and warm, his movements slow and careful as he tried to move his thumb back and forth. He hadn’t much control over his movement, so his muscles twitched and jerked, but still it was the most fragile, gentle thing she’d felt in a while. Brienne’s heart was racing and she was overwhelmed and embarrassed by how intimate this moment felt. Slowly, she pulled her hand back and then cleared her throat.  
  
“That’s um… very good. Let’s try again with the pen.” With the tension between them taking up so much space, there wasn’t much room for the words they left unspoken. The kitchen was quiet, expect for the sound of Jaime scribbling on the paper and the minutes passing. When his muscles got so tired he could no longer hold the pen, they decided to stop.  
  
“Well done, mister Lannister,” Brienne praised as she walked over to the sofa where Jaime had just sat down with a loud and utterly dramatic sigh.  
  
“Thank you miss-” He frowned and then his jaw dropped.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It just hit me that you never told me your last name. How can I _not know_ your last name?! After all the shit that we’ve been through.” His eyes were wide and clear as he looked up at her.  
  
“It’s Tarth,” she said. Jaime frowned again and she rolled her eyes. “What _now_?”  
  
“I thought you said you were _from_ Tarth.”  
  
“I did. I am.” Outside, the helicopters were flying overhead and even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to see them, Brienne still walked over to the window to look outside, and away from him. His gaze followed her across the room.  
  
“But your last name... is also Tarth?”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“So it’s… Brienne Tarth… from Tarth?” The confusion in his voice made her chuckle. She nodded, expecting him to make some kind of snide remark, but he didn’t. Instead, he brought his mug to his lips, and put it back down without drinking.  
“I like it,” he said. “ _Brienne of Tarth_.” The way he said it, it sounded almost magical, like the name of a fierce lady knight from a different world.  
  
She reached for the remote on the side table and turned on the TV. “Yes, well, I’m glad you like it, because that’s what it is and it’s not going to change.”  
  
He gave her a sideways glance, cool eyes boring into her soul. “Never say never.”

  
When the newsreader announced that the wind had finally picked up, and now – of course – blew in their direction, Brienne looked at Jaime.  
  
“Are you scared?”  
  
He scoffed loudly. “Scared, me? Please. Are you?”  
  
She thought about it for a second and then said, “Of the fire? No.” There was the slightest hint of a frown on his face.  
  
“What _are_ you afraid of?” Brienne took a deep breath in, quickly going through her collection of worries. She realised that if she wanted him to let her in, she would have to try harder to let hem in as well.  
  
“Oh, you know… many things,” she replied. Jaime closed his eyes and sighed.  
  
“Fuck, I’m sorry, it was a stupid question. I shouldn’t have asked. I know how difficult things are for you.” There was no need to explain what he meant with _things_.  
  
“It’s all right,” she said. “We can… talk about it, if you want. If it helps you.” He looked at her like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, which was understandable, because even Brienne herself couldn’t believe it.  
  
He gave her a moment or two to change her mind and then said, “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”  
  
“You won’t.” The determination in her voice surprised them both. She could see how he struggled finding the right words. “Just say it,” she insisted. “It’s okay. Ask me.”  
  
“Right, right. So, Margaery told me you never filed the police report against Bolton.” Bracing for impact, knowing that taking off means you’re going to have to land at some point, doesn’t mean you don’t shake when the plane hits the ground. Firing a rifle on purpose doesn’t mean the kickback won’t sting. Part of Brienne expected her instincts to start screaming at her the way they always did, but the voices remained remarkably quiet. Step one was to not run away. Now she had to let him in. Then maybe, he could do the same. What an incredibly terrifying and beautiful thing it is to introduce one’s ghosts to those belonging to another person. It’s the ultimate act of vulnerability.  
  
“I don’t mean to pressure you, but I just need to know… _Why_?”  
  
Brienne sighed. “Honestly? I was just afraid… that they wouldn’t believe me, afraid of having to talk about it over and over again. They told me the procedure and it just sounded so awful, I didn’t think I could do it. Not again.” Jaime nodded.  
  
For weeks, there had been a huge rift between them, but now that the distance between them was rapidly dissolving, she realised just how strongly she felt about him. It had been relatively easy to put her feelings aside after the accident. That Jaime was a shadow of the man she knew. His smile wasn’t inviting, he didn’t have that look in his eyes that would just pull her in like a magnet, despite her best efforts to keep a safe distance – whatever that meant. They had been sailing a stormy sea for months, him desperately holding on to her sails, keeping her afloat. Then after his accident, the boat crashed and he slowly drifted away from her into a different direction. All she could do was wave at him and call his name, but some days it felt like he couldn’t even hear her anymore. Who knew that memories were so incredibly powerful?  
  
Deep in her heart, there was a yearning to be close to him, even though she didn’t really know how to be close to anyone in that way.  
  
“So… now what?” Jaime asked, pulling her back to reality. “You can’t just let him get away with it. What if he tries again?” Brienne rubbed her hands over her face. Just the thought of it sent shivers down her spine.  
  
“I know he will. If it’s not with me, it’s going to be with some other girl. I don’t want that weighing on my conscience.”  
  
“We have to do something.”  
  
“But what _can_ we do? I mean _I,_ what can _I_ do? I tried talking to the people at work. I even tried talking to his wife! But they never-”  
  
“Wait, you did _what_?” Brienne’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  
  
“I… I spoke to his wife, Lysa. I saw her at work and followed her outside and-” Jaime buried his face in his hands.  
  
“Gods, Brienne, how could you be so _stupid_? So reckless?”  
  
“I know,” she wailed, “It was a dumb thing to do. I just didn’t see any other way. I thought that I had to at least _try_ , you know? It was worth a shot.”  
  
“ _Worth a shot?_ You’re gambling with your career here, Brienne. Do you not know that Roose and Lysa Bolton are very influential people? I’m sorry, I just- I don’t understand what made you think this was a good idea.” Brienne wanted to shrug, but the weight of his disappointment was heavy on her shoulders.  
  
“I don’t know. I thought if I could just talk to her… You needn’t worry though. She didn’t believe me. None of them did.” Jaime looked at her like he was about to start something, but he didn’t.  
  
“Who else did you tell?” Giving in to her restlessness, she started pacing around the room.  
  
“When the whole thing started, I tried to talk to Ned Stark, but they wouldn’t let me meet with him. Instead, I spoke to two other people. Men. It wasn’t a good talk – some shit about how Bolton was a man of _honour_ and _loyalty_.”  
  
Jaime scoffed loudly. “Ha, fuck loyalty.”  
  
“That’s what I said! Anyway… I gave up and kept quiet. Then when he tried again, I thought maybe I should let the people do the work, you know? Gossip. _Rumours_.”  
  
Jaime was visibly triggered by something she said, searching through the mess of his memory. “The rumours,” he said slowly. “People were saying he tried to kiss you. Or… that _you_ tried to kiss _him_.” Brienne stood next to the window, rubbing her arms in a feeble attempt to calm her body down.  
  
“Yes,” she sighed. “I spread those rumours myself. I’d hoped that maybe, other women would recognise it and come forward, you know? We could stand up to him together.”  
  
“I remember that day; driving your car our of town, to the meadow. We sat on the bonnet. Do you remember?” The energy in the room suddenly shifted with his words, leaving Brienne off balance and blushing. Still, she found the courage to turn around to him.  
  
“Of course I remember,” she said. “You were always saving me. Or trying to, at least.”  
  
“ _Hm_ , how the tables have turned.”  
  
“How the mighty have fallen.”  
  
Jaime snorted and said, “That’s a bit much.” They both laughed and Brienne finally felt like she could breathe again, but more than that, she felt a sense of freedom and weightlessness. More outside of her own head and inside the world, even if was only as small as this house that they were trapped in.  
  
“So, what should we do?” Jaime asked.  
  
“We? This is not a _we_ -thing. It’s not your fight, it’s mine.” He shook his head.  
  
“I promised you that I would make him pay for what he did and I intend to keep that promise. I don’t know how, just yet, but I’ll find a way.” Remembering all the times they had argued about this, Brienne realised there was no point in trying to talk him out of it.  
  
 _Grumpy, grouchy, amnesiac Jaime – yes, perhaps. But not this Jaime. Not the real Jaime. Not-_  
  
Brienne didn’t allow herself to finish that thought. When Jaime stood up and came stumbling towards her, he seemed hesitant to touch her at first, but maybe he had felt the same change that she had felt, because he placed his hands gently on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.  
  
“It might be a long way, but I’ll find it.” All she did was nod and smile a rigid smile. He didn’t make the moment last any longer than it needed to be and Brienne was glad he quickly let go of her. Or so she thought. When he turned to limp away, she realised she wasn’t as relieved as she thought she’d be. Even though she hadn’t been in control, hadn’t been the one to touch _him,_ she was surprisingly okay with it. In fact, she was _very_ okay with it and just for a second, she allowed herself to be proud of that feeling.  
  
The hours flew by. Because neither of them had eaten a proper meal since the day before, Jaime suggested they would have a proper dinner with whatever ingredients they could find around the house. At one point, he tried to cut some cherry tomatoes but one slipped from under the knife and flew over the counter before tumbling to the ground. He laughed at his own clumsiness and Brienne felt a strange, unwelcome flutter in her chest.  
  
 _The Lion of Lannister_ , she thought, stirring in a pot of sauce that really didn’t need any more stirring. _I can see him now._  
  
She, like most people, had always thought he was incredibly handsome. Strange, really, because his nose looked kind of funny, his bottom teeth were slightly crooked and now he had a big scar on his eyebrow. None of it mattered. Despite, or maybe thanks to these little imperfections, he was so, _so_ charming. And that god damn smile. _Bloody fucking annoying_. Brienne almost had to check with herself if she hadn’t misinterpreted her own feelings, but it was as if she asked the voices inside if it was true, and they all nodded silently.  
  
She wanted to touch him. More than that, she wanted to kiss him, and the most frightening feeling yet: she wanted _him_ to kiss _her_. Not like the last time he kissed her, when he was drunk and on the verge of passing out. Not when she had kissed him and she was… also drunk, and just _stupid_. No, nothing like those times. She wanted to comb her fingers through his golden hair and not be afraid to look into his eyes. To let her hand move over the side of his face, feel the scratch of his beard against her palm, tracehis jaw with her thumb. Touch his skin, his cheeks, his lips. There were many things Brienne wanted in that moment, but she did nothing.  
  
Instead of giving in, she just stood there, stirring her sauce, watching Jaime bite his lip trying to perfectly arrange his potatoes in a ceramic baking dish. Brienne chuckled.  
  
 _Such a perfectionist_.  
  
“What?” he asked as he turned his head to look at her.  
  
“Nothing. I just realised that you’re an idiot.” Jaime shook his head and laughed.  
  
“You only _just_ realised that, did you?” His laugh vibrated through her bones and she could barely find the strength to shrug and smile innocently.  
  
  
It was well past midnight when Jaime entered the lounge. He was surprised to find Brienne there. The L-shaped cream-coloured sofa was enormous, with large, fluffy cushions. It was so comfortable and soft that sitting down felt like sinking into a cloud. Jaime always sat on the side that had the back facing the window. Brienne never understood this. She preferred to sit on the other side with her back towards the kitchen. That way she could sit with her knees pulled up, leaning against the backrest, watching the birds in the garden and the wind in the trees. This time, Jaime came to sit next to her – on _her_ side of the sofa – but didn’t seem to notice her surprise.  
  
“Didn’t expect you to still be up,” he said casually. “What are you doing?” Brienne looked down at her book and back at Jaime.  
  
“Um… What does it look like? I didn’t feel like sleeping yet. Hope you don't mind that I stayed here.”  
  
He violently shook his head, like she had just said something ridiculous. “Oh no, of course not. I couldn’t sleep either.”  
  
“Oh,” Brienne replied, looking back at the book and then Jaime again. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, looking at her. “Can I... help you… with something, maybe? Like, do you need anything?”  
  
Jaime waved at her dismissively. “No, no. You just go ahead and read. Would you like some wine? If we’re going to stay up we might as well have a drink, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
When he returned, he sat in his normal spot, but continued to stare at her. Brienne could go over the same line a dozen times, she’d still be unable to tell anyone what it said.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked when she could no longer stand it.

“Nothing. Just looking at you”  
  
“Yes, I can see that,” Brienne said as she closed the book and put it down in her lap. “But why?”  
  
“Why? Why _not_?” There was something cheeky in the way he said it. Brienne suppressed a smile and said, “Well, I’d prefer it, if you didn’t.”  
  
“Didn’t do what?”  
  
“Look at me like that!”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said innocently, in a low voice. Brienne growled and rolled her eyes.  
  
“Fine. Is there anything you’d like to do, other than sit there and stare at me like a creep?” Jaime smirked, but didn’t reply. Instead he got up and put some music on. Brienne shook her head and opened her book to continue fake-reading.  
  
A calm beat and pleasant melody came flowing from his fancy sound system. The bass was so deep Brienne could feel it in her chest. A male voice, warm and rich, filled the room with a story that she couldn’t possibly focus on. Over the edge of her book, she looked at Jaime in the corner of the room, doing something out of sight. A few seconds later, he came stumbling towards her. Brienne lowered the book again and looked up at him.  
  
Before she could open her mouth, he said, “Actually. There is something I would like to do. And I know you’ll come up with a million reasons why we shouldn’t, but ’m just going to ask you anyway, okay?” Brienne’s heart almost beat right out of her chest.  
  
“Okay,” she said.  
  
“Okay.” Silence.  
  
“Well?” Brienne urged.  
  
“Yes. I um… I would like to dance with you.” Brienne wasn’t sure if her mouth fell open or if it only felt that way.  
  
“ _Dance_?” she asked in disbelief. “With _me_?” He nodded. “But your leg-”  
  
“Is fine, I swear. Would you? Dance with me, I mean.” Brienne awkwardly shifted in her seat.  
  
“Oh um… Well I- I don’t really… dance.” Jaime shrugged.  
  
“Neither do I. But I want to. Please, try? And if you hate it, we’ll just stop.”  
  
She chuckled nervously and said, “I don’t think you understand. When I say I don’t really dance, I mean that I r _eally don’t_ dance. At all. _Ever_.” He smiled.

“Why must you always fight me? Take my hand, Brienne of Tarth.” She rolled her eyes. The voice insde that would normally start screaming at her right about now, was now so far away that Brienne couldn’t make out the words, and so she found herself taking his hand and letting him lead her around the sofa. She couldn’t hear a thing over the sound of her heart beating like crazy.  
  
When his right arm wrapped around her waist, she tensed up and gasped quietly. Jaime drew back a little to check if she was okay.  
  
“Sorry,” she said, blushing.  
  
“Don’t apologise. Maybe I should hold you differently?”  
  
Brienne looked away for a moment, weighing his words, and then said, “No.”  
  
Jaime nodded and placed his hand on her waist again, slowly pulling her in. He was so calm, and gentle and kind – not even showing that he could hear her trying to catch her breath. At first, she was almost afraid to move, thinking she would step on his toes or worse. Her mind was in such chaos that she couldn’t even tell her thoughts apart.  
  
When Jaime spoke, his voice came from somewhere beyond this world. “Brienne? Stay here with me.” Maybe it was a magic charm, a secret spell of sorts, because the fiery madness in her head was immediately quenched by his words. There was no need for thoughts, really. She could just hold him and he would lead her, carry her. Not once did she step on his toes or move the wrong way.  
  
As the first song changed into the second and the second into the third, she started to forget about being trapped inside the house, about the flames that were just across the main road. About Jaime’s accident and the rift between them. About the names. She could even forget about Bolton and the one before him, although her muscles immediately tensed at the thought of him. Jaime was so sensitive to the slightest change in her body language, the tiniest sign of discomfort, that he noticed right away.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. Brienne couldn’t look him in the eye just yet, but there was a small victory in being able to not run away. She nodded, wanting to close her eyes and truly surrender, but she couldn’t.  
  
“Yeah,” she whispered. Jaime slowly pulled her in even closer, bringing their joint hands to his chest.  
  
“It’s going to be all right, Brienne. Everything. I feel it now.” His chest against hers radiated an intense heat that seemed to chase all her demons away. She felt so safe in his arms, that she could finally rest her head on his shoulder and close her eyes.  
  
There was nothing to fear in the darkness that followed. No faces, no memories. Just Jaime. His heart beating steady against her hand, his calm, even breaths against the side of her face.

When she looked at him again, he said “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I’m glad you found me.” Brienne smiled at him.  
  
“But you found me first.” He slowly reached for her face to push a strand of hair behind her ear. The way she blushed made him smile. His index finger trailed down her jawline until he reached her chin. Brienne felt his eyes crawl over every little inch of her face, lingering on her lips. His sigh sounded almost like moan.  
  
“I want to kiss you.” She opened her mouth to say something and his thumb moved up to brush her lip. “Gods I really, _really_ want to kiss you.” Brienne smiled and his eyes finally pulled away from her mouth. For a moment, there was no more chaos, no more fear. Only the very thing she wanted most in the world, right there in front of her, close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss.   
  
“Then stop talking and kiss me, you big idiot.” First he slightly turned her face to kiss her cheek – once, twice. Her eyelashes fluttered and her breath trembled against his face. His lips brushed the tip of her nose, and then the other cheek, until finally, he reached her mouth.  
  
It didn’t last long. It wasn’t complicated. He was careful, slow and so very gentle. As soon as their lips touched, Brienne felt like she was about to explode. His mouth was warm, his lips were soft and he tasted like… Well, there wasn’t anything like it, really. He tasted like _Jaime_. He tasted like _more_. He opened his mouth against hers and moaned softly. Then he drew back and that was it. Only a few seconds. It had been so long since Brienne had willingly kissed anybody, she had almost forgotten how amazing it could be. Jaime looked at her, trying to read her.  
  
“I’m fine, Jaime. You can stop worrying now.” He gave her a guilty smile. Brienne smiled back at him, but then her face fell.  
  
“What’s wrong?” She looked away from him and in return, Jaime let go of her.  
  
“What if this is all I can give you? For a while, at least.” He took her face in his hands and brushed her cheek with his thumb.  
  
“Then _this,”_ he paused to kiss her softly on the lips, “will be enough.” Even though she wasn’t completely convinced, she nodded. Jaime kissed the tip of her nose one more time and then let her go and turned around.  
  
“Gods, I need a drink,” he sighed. Then he looked around, frowning.  
  
“What are you looking for?”  
  
“My phone… I must have left it upstairs.”  
  
“Oh… Do you want me to get it for you? Where is it?” Jaime poured himself and Brienne another glass of wine.  
  
“It’s in my study. The room in the back, opposite the um… _book room_.” Brienne nodded and went upstairs. The door to his study was still open and Jaime had left his phone on a large desk made of glass. She took the phone – without looking, this time – and walked out again.  
  
Even though all the windows were closed, a strange gust of wind pushed past her. Behind her, she heard a creaking noise. The inexplicable wind had pushed one of the other doors slightly open.  
  
Brienne walked down the corridor and stopped to close it, but then something inside the room caught her eye. A strange shape sparked her curiosity and she carefully opened the door just enough to see that it was a beautiful, three-story doll house, made of wood. Brienne stepped inside and used the light from the corridor to illuminate the mystery.  
  
On the right there was a pile of rubble: wooden shelves and books and colourful little decorations – crafts. On the other side, behind the doll house, there was a white double bed with a beautiful golden crown painted above it on the wall. A fairy made of coloured glass hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room and the reflection of the light danced across the floor like fairy dust. The rug was pink with a floral pattern and the dolls in the corner looked as though someone had played with them only hours ago.  
  
“Oh my god,” Brienne gasped. She walked further into the room and turned one of the lights on. As she realised just what she was seeing, her stomach clenched and twisted. There were two broken picture frames in the mess that was once a bookcase, but despite the broken glass she could see the faces.  
  
She saw Jaime in a hospital room, looking a lot younger, and holding a baby. Right behind him, in the hospital bed, there was a young woman. The second photo showed Jaime and a little, blonde girl on a swing, making faces at the camera.  
  
On the night stand by the bed, she found another one. The girl was older in this one, sitting in a field with Jaime to her right. He was leaning over the girl’s head to kiss a beautiful woman on the cheek. The woman smiled with her eyes closed and Brienne recognised her from the first photo.   
  
She took the picture from the night stand and studied the little girl's face.   
  
_She looks just like him_.

“Brienne? Are you okay up there?” Jaime voice came from miles away but cut right throug her. The room suddenly started spinning and Brienne felt like throwing up.  
  
She turned around to the door and an iron fist tightened around her heart, squeezing out all her hope until she felt numb.  
  
Above a little white desk in the corner, beautiful silver letters spelled a name she recognised.  
  
 _Ella_.


	20. Chapter 20

The air around her was thick and heavy with secrets. Brienne could feel how they reached for her, trying to grab hold of her legs and climb all the way up to her throat. No matter how badly she wanted to get away, her muscles were rigid and she stood frozen in place, with only her eyes moving as she absorbed the meaning of her discovery.  
  
“Brienne?” Her stomach clenched at the sound of his voice swirling up the stairs to meet her. “Did you find it?”  
  
For a second she was confused. _Find what?_ Then she became aware of Jaime’s phone in her hand. Her throat was so tight there was barely enough room for her voice to pass through.  
  
With the last ounce of her that didn’t feel terribly lost, she replied, “Yes. I found it. I’ll be right there.” A long silence followed, as if her words had to jump through hoops of fire and cross oceans to get to him.  
  
“Oh, okay. I’ll just… wait down here, then,” he replied, almost too quietly. Brienne could only nod. She’d always known that Jaime would never be _just_ Jaime. From the very first time she came to his house, she had thought there were signs of him dating someone, being in a relationship with someone. She heard him on the phone, she saw Lyanna calling him, multiple times. He dreamed about someone named Sophie and received texts from Ella. But when she had straight up asked him, he had told her that there was no one else. Was that a lie?  
  
When Jaime was in the hospital, she never saw or heard anything from any of them and Tyrion had never mentioned them either. Never once had it crossed her mind that one of those names could belong to a child. _His_ child. Who hides their child from someone? And a child is never just a child, is it? They always mean something more. Brienne looked to her right, where half finished drawings and coloured pencils lay sadly waiting on the little white desk.  
  
Her attention was drawn to the picture on the night stand and suddenly she’d had enough. Enough of the secrets, the drama, the twisting and turning and constantly – _constantly_ _–_ going round and round in endless fucking circles that led absolutely nowhere.  
  
Brienne closed the door behind her and peeked over the banister down into the foyer to find that Jaime wasn’t there anymore. Quietly she hurried down the stairs and into her room, where she grabbed two arms full of clothes from the wardrobe and stuffed them in her suitcase. There was so much going on inside that the only sensible thing was to run away. Without a sound, she went into the kitchen to get her phone, but when she stepped out into the entrance hall, Jaime was already there, waiting for her. Maybe her anxiety and frustration, her panic and sense of betrayal, were so strong that they’d become tangible. Perhaps the voices inside her head, that had been so quiet all evening, were now so loud that Jaime had felt their presence vibrating through the house.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“I can’t stay,” Brienne said, trying to hurry to the door before Jaime could stop her.  
  
“What? What are you talking about? What happened?”  
  
“I just- I can’t do it anymore. And I think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a while.” Although Jaime was still walking with one crutch, he’d become agile enough to beat her to the door. When she tried to open it, he slammed it shut with so much force that the window above it trembled in its frame.  
  
“Oh no, we’re not doing this again. If you want to leave this house, you’ll have to go right through me. You can’t go.”  
  
“ _Ha_ , watch me,” Brienne warned, forcefully pushing him aside, but Jaime was not impressed and put his entire body between Brienne and the door.  
  
“I mean it. You can’t leave. The fire; the smoke – it’s dangerous. You won’t even be able to cross the main road.”  
  
 _Fuck_. How could she have forgotten about the explosion and half the damn woods being on fire? She looked at him for a second, then shook her head and used her elbow to push him away.  
  
“Well, I don’t care,” she snapped at him. “I’m leaving. Move aside.” Jaime refused to move.  
  
“No. Brienne I’m sick of this. Of you trying to run away every chance you get. You have to stop.”  
  
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, _you’re_ sick of it, are you? How do you think I feel?”  
  
“What the hell happened to you? You were fine 30 minutes ago! You let me _kiss you_ , 30 minutes ago!”  
  
Brienne threw her head back and scoffed. “Well, _t_ _hat_ was a mistake.” Her words and her attitude caused something within Jaime to snap.  
  
“Fuck that,” he barked. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I can’t watch you do this anymore. It’s not fair. Not to me and not to yourself.”  
  
“Don’t talk to me about what’s _fair_.”  
  
“What could you have possibly-” As he fell silent, his eyes widened and a terrifying calm settled over him. For a moment, he lowered his eyes and sighed. When he looked up again, he said, “You went into her room, didn’t you?” Whatever Brienne was feeling now doubled in intensity.  
  
“Yes, Jaime, I went into her room. I’m sorry I found out about your little secret, okay, but better late than never. Now move aside or I’ll kick the fucking door down.” Jaime narrowed his eyes but ignored her violent threat.  
  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, quietly.  
  
“Really? Because I remember you telling me there was no one else.”  
  
Despite her best efforts, her voice was losing strength. Months of fighting her feelings, her pain, and wanting something that couldn’t be hers – it all seemed to have built up in her chest. Now she felt like the mess inside was about to explode, like there was a huge traffic jam inside her misty soul, and an enormous road train was approaching at full speed. Whoever was driving must have missed the emergency lights flickering through the fog.  
  
Jaime now seemed about to lose his mind, panting, grabbing her by the shoulders. Brienne swiftly wrestled free to walk away from him, but Jaime leapt forward and wrapped his good hand tightly around her arm.  
  
“There _is_ no one else,” he insisted. “There’s only you. Always – _always_ – you. What else can I tell you? _There is no one else_!” His eyes were wide, but seemed more desperate than angry. Brienne frowned at him with disgust. She was never someone to argue, but then again, she’d rarely ever had anything worth arguing over, or _anyone_ worth arguing _with_.  
  
“How can you say that about a child? You call your own child _no one_?” She freed herself from his grip and stalked into the kitchen. Jaime had to use all his strength to keep up with her.  
  
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe things aren’t always what they seem? That maybe, _just maybe_ , you could be wrong about people? That you have a completely destructive tendency to judge people and jump to conclusions in the first fucking second?”  
  
They stood face to face in the middle of the kitchen, a good two meters and an entire kingdom of emotions separating them. The entire universe around them – every single little fibre, every particle outside this room, this house - seemed to have disappeared. It was just the two of them and many, many things, that needed to be said. Brienne had her jaw clenched, but didn’t know if she felt powerless, or angry, or betrayed, or sad. The tears that stung behind her eyes were mostly made of mental exhaustion.  
  
“Don’t make this about me,” she said. “How could you hide your own child from me? For months! And why?!” Jaime laughed an awkward, uncomfortable laugh, like the absurdity of it all just got the better of him.  
  
“Because it _is_ about you, Brienne. How can you not see that? It’s always been about you.”  
  
“How can your child-”  
  
“ _It’s not my child!_ Jesus!” It was as though she’d been staring at a huge screen with wild colours and crazy sounds and someone suddenly pulled the plug. The sound died, the screen went black.  
  
Silence.  
  
Brienne hadn’t noticed Jaime stepping closer until she realised she could see his pulse in his neck. That’s when she saw how pale and tired he looked. She felt numb, almost empty, like the ground had disappeared from under her, but instead of falling down, she just floated in place.  
  
“She… She’s not?” Jaime rubbed his hands over his face, part relieved and part exhausted beyond comprehension.  
  
“Can we please… Can we... Oh-” He tried to reach for the kitchen counter to stabilise himself.  
  
“Jaime?” Brienne stretched her arms out just in time to catch him. “Jaime?”  
  
His entire body went completely limp in her arms. She let him down slowly and then sat down on the floor behind him, so that his head rested in her lap. His forehead was sweaty and thick strands of golden hair stuck to his pale face. She patted him on the cheek to wake him up, gently at first and then more urgent. “Come one, wake up. Jaime!”  
  
It only lasted maybe 20 seconds, no more, but when he slowly opened his cloudy eyes, they seemed tired and terribly confused.  
  
“What happened?” he asked, looking up at her.  
  
Brienne shrugged. “You passed out.” Trying to sit up straight cost him more energy than he could afford to spend, and Brienne, of course, refused to help him. With a low grunt, he landed back in her lap.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he sighed.  
  
“Me too.” The smile he forced was as tired and weak as she was.  
  
“I wanted to suggest we’d sit down and talk about this,” he said. Brienne put one hand behind her and let it take her weight as she leaned back. The other hand was still somewhere between Jaime’s shoulder and his chest from when she’d stopped slapping him across the face.  
  
“Well,” she said, “You got your wish. We’re sitting down all right. At least, one of us is.” Brienne paused and looked down at him, lying on the floor with his legs crossed at the ankles, staring up at her with misty eyes. “Are you okay?” Jaime nodded and smiled.  
  
“You’re always saving me.” Brienne rolled her eyes but didn’t speak, and in their silence, they watched their stories unravel like a movie scene, each from their own place in the world like cameras from different angles. Then Jaime gently put his hand over hers and pulled it further down to his chest.  
  
“She’s my sister’s child, Ella,” he said, looking down, smiling at the thought of her. “It’s Myrcella, actually, but I’ve never liked that name. It’s sounds harsh – doesn’t fit her at all. She calls herself Ella now, too, because she thinks it sounds _cool_. Much to my sister’s displeasure.”  
  
“Does she come here often?” Jaime’s smile faded.  
  
“Not anymore. She used to visit every other weekend and during school holidays, too. But she does ballet now. It’s basically _all_ she does now, so she has no time for her boring uncle Jaime. I get it, though; she’s incredibly talented, very focused and committed. When she dances, she’s like a little swan, you know? I don’t get how such grace and elegance can come from such a young child.”  
  
“How old is she?” Brienne asked.  
  
“She’s 9.”  
  
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that you have a sister?” Jaime looked up at her with sad, dark eyes and then looked away again.  
  
“ _Had_ ,” he corrected. “She died.”  
  
Brienne closed her eyes and shook her head, “Oh gods, I’m sorry...”  
  
“It’s okay,” Jaime said. “But you’re right. I should have told you. I just couldn’t.” Brienne frowned at him, but before she could ask anything, he continued, “I’ll tell you about her. But first, we should get off this floor.”  
  
When Brienne got up and turned around to help him, she asked, “Are you sure you can stand without fainting again?”  
  
“I did _not_ faint,” Jaime argued as he took her hand. “I simply… decided to take a nap. Mid-sentence.”  
  
“Hmm-hm,” she hummed. “Of course you did. As any sane person would.”  
  
  
When they sat down in the living room, each in their spot on the sofa, Jaime continued his story.  
  
“My mother died a week after Tyrion was born. I’m convinced that if she’d died in childbirth, my father would have drowned Tyrion in the ocean. He wouldn’t have known how to love him, because he’s different, you know? But mother, she loved Tyrion and my father loved every piece of her, so there was nothing he could do. Now, my sister, that’s a different story. Oh how he loved her. _Adored_ her. She was the spitting image of my mother with her long, wavy, golden hair and eyes as green as emeralds. The same nose, the same chin. She was beautiful.” Brienne nodded, remembering what she’d seen in Ella’s room.  
  
“I saw her in Ella’s pictures. She did look stunning.”  
  
“Oh she was. Tyrion used to say that Ella had all her mother’s beauty and none of her nature, but that’s not true. She’s feisty, strong-headed… So much like her mother and yet so much like me, that people often think she is _my_ daughter.” That wasn’t difficult to imagine for Brienne. After all, she had thought the exact same thing.  
  
“We were twins, but very different. My sister was always my father’s favourite. She was smart, devious, eloquent, very cunning... She was incredibly controlling, even as a child. Strategic, ambitious, beautiful – all the things my father valued in a person, in his children. Many of the things that myself and Tyrion were not. I might have had the looks, but Tyrion had something much more valuable: wit and incredible intelligence.  
  
"As a boy, I was only two things: fearless and quick, but in my father’s eyes I was reckless and impulsive. The only thing I was really good at, was sports. Baseball. Then one day, when I was 16, I broke my wrist during practice and had to quit. My father didn’t speak to me for three weeks. Said I’d blown the only chance of a real future. Tyrion might have been his least favourite child as a baby, at least he turned out to be talented.” Jaime shook his head and sighed at his own misery.  
  
“Anyway, I suppose I really suffered under the weight of his expectations. It was hard to get through school and after that, it was hard to stay afloat in his company. We all worked for my father. After a couple of years of swimming against the current, I took a job as a marketing assistant. At last I had found something I was really good at. After the initial disappointment, and with the help of my brother, my father started to notice me. Things were finally looking up. I became marketing director and was now almost – _almost_ – as good as my beloved siblings. But my personal success came at a price.”  
  
Jaime paused to take a sip from his drink. The room was so quiet that the silence almost tickled Brienne’s ears. Jaime put his arms behind his head with a sigh, and laughed a miserable laugh.  
  
“Gods, I became such an ass. My father’s acknowledgement was addictive. I did everything to please him. I was tense, arrogant, rude and greedy. I lied and cheated in true Lannister fashion. Then I started drinking. A lot. One day, we had a huge meeting planned with the CEO of Riverrun. It was a make-it-or-break-it kind of thing. We’d been working toward this deal for well over a year and we were on the verge of taking over the entire company. I was incredibly stressed and overworked, so the night before, I had a few drinks to calm my nerves, but a few turned into many, and many turned into _way too_ many. I practically passed out and slept through my alarm. When I woke up, completely hungover, I called my father – who was away on a business trip – to tell him I wouldn’t be able to make it and that he should send my sister instead. He was so angry and disappointed that he could barely speak. It was like being back at the hospital at 16, telling him my baseball days were behind me. Only this time, it was actually my own stupid fault.”  
  
Brienne was looking at him with wide eyes, hanging on his every word.  
  
“So what happened?” she asked, impatiently. “Did she seal the deal?” Jaime looked down at his glass.  
  
“She never made it,” he replied. “Someone ran a red light on the corner of the street and crashed into her car. She died on impact.”  
  
“Jesus...” Brienne muttered. “And your father?”  
  
“He blames me for her death, on top of everything else. If I hadn’t been stupid, childish, irresponsible and weak, she wouldn’t have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  
  
Brienne huffed. “Well then it could have been you.”  
  
Jaime shrugged and said, “Maybe it should have been. It’s what my father would have preferred.”  
  
“Don’t say that. I’m sure that’s not true.”  
  
“Oh no, it is. He told me so himself. Multiple times, actually.” Brienne didn’t really know how to respond to that. She did, however, remember Tyrion talking about Jaime’s past. How he had seen days so dark, he thought he’d gone blind. And now, finally, she knew what he had meant.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Jaime… I had no idea… But what happened to your sister isn’t your fault.”  
  
“Isn’t it though? How can you be sure?”  
  
“Because I don’t believe that’s how life works.” Jaime shrugged and stared into the room.  
  
“Oh well, he blamed me anyway. For losing the deal to the Starks, for my sister dying. After she was gone, I completely lost myself for a while, and through losing myself, I lost most of what I had – or thought I had. The people I thought were my friends, turned out to be a bunch a wolves. And without truly knowing me, they judged me. By what right does the wolf judge the lion, hm? Well… I suppose they couldn’t hurt me any more than I had hurt myself. She was my twin. A part of my soul. Maybe that’s why Ella and I are so close, I don’t know. From the first time I held her, I felt... connected to her, in a way. And now, she is all I have left of my sister.  
  
"Anyway... Things were pretty bad for long time. I couldn’t work, eat, or sleep. I promised myself I would never drink again, but drinking was the only way to numb the pain. To forget. Robert – my sister’s husband – never blamed me for wat happened, but he wouldn’t let me see Ella for 5 months, because I was such a mess. My father wanted nothing to do with me. He told me he would buy me out so I could infiltrate Winterfell, learn their secrets and steal Riverrun back from Ned Stark. After that, I’d be forgiven and he would let me back in. No one would suspect a thing after what had happened and as an added bonus, he would finally be rid of me. Tyrion made sure I got the best possible deal, and I agreed.  
  
"Being away from the toxicity of Casterly Rock and my father for a while, I gained perspective and realised I would never please him. I would never be enough. So, a few months ago, I quit our plan; I gave up on Riverrun. My business allegiance was with Winterfell now. That was the final straw, so he disowned me. Ironically, it might be the best thing that’s ever happened. I finally felt like my own person. I felt free, and determined to become better than who I used to be. I couldn’t have done it without Tyrion though, and the counsellor he set me up with, who later became one of my closest and only friends; Lyanna. I don’t remember if I’ve mentioned her before.” Brienne almost choked on her drink.  
  
“Lyanna is your therapist?” she asked, slightly incredulous.  
  
“ _Former_ therapist, - _counsellor_ \- and current friend,” Jaime corrected, frowning at her strange reaction. “And soon-to-be sister-in-law. I could almost see the sparks fly when she and Robert met. Really awkward. It was difficult for Robert at first. He felt it was too soon, and he had Ella to think of, but love finds _us_ and not the other way around. Besides, Ella really adores Lyanna now. She’s the best thing that could have happened to them, given the circumstances. It all worked itself out in the end. Most of it, at least.”  
  
Brienne’s head was absolutely spinning. She wanted to scream and cry and laugh all at the same time.  
  
“Wow,” she sighed after a moment of silent chaos. “That is quite the story… I just- I just have one more question."  
  
“Just one?” Jaime chuckled. “All right then, go ahead.”  
  
“Who is Sophie?” He gave her a confused frown.  
  
“Sophie? I don’t know anyone with that name. No one of importance to me, at least. Why?”  
  
Brienne bit her lip, starting to doubt herself.  
  
“When you were asleep in the garden last week, you said her name,” she explained. “I think, in your dream, you were looking for her and then you said she was-” Her words suddenly evaporated and Jaime looked at her expectantly. “What did you say your sister’s name was?”  
  
“I didn’t,” Jaime replied, “But her name was Cersei. Why?”  
  
Brienne shook her head with a stupid smile on her face. She could almost hear the penny drop in Jaime’s head.  
  
“Wait… Did you think _C_ _ersei_ was _Sophie_?” Brienne shrugged and Jaime shook his head, laughing. “Let me guess, you thought she was my long lost lover?”  
  
Brienne threw a cushion at him, but he caught it mid-air.  
  
“How was I supposed to know?! _Cersei_ is a very uncommon name and you really mumble when you sleep-talk, so...” She paused for a moment, allowing room for Jaime to laugh at her, and then continued, “Lyanna, Ella, Sophie. _Cersei_. Please tell me that this is everything. That you’re not secretly married or something.”  
  
Jaime stumbled over to her side of the sofa and put a hand on her knee. “I told you. There is no one else. I haven’t been with anyone in a very, very long time. And now there’s only you.”  
  
“Fine. I believe you,” Brienne admitted. “And I’m really sorry about everything. I’m sorry that I never asked you and that I made you feel like you couldn’t – or shouldn’t – tell me. I was too self-absorbed and I’m not very good at... _this_.” She made a strange gesture and Jaime chuckled.  
  
“And what’s that?”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Don’t make me say it.”  
  
“That’s a pity,” he said with a cheeky grin, “I’d love to hear you say it. Maybe one day, hm?”  
  
Brienne knew he wasn’t serious, but still she sighed. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Enough apologising,” Jaime replied firmly. “I should have known you would think that I was with someone. That’s such a you-thing to think. And to _not-ask_.” Jaime was too slow to avoid Brienne’s playful punch. He made a painful face and rubbed his arm, but then he took her hand.  
  
“I want _you_. Not for your sapphire eyes or your crystal smile. Not for your amazing, long legs or your ivory skin like a reversed night’s sky. I don’t want you for your shiny, silver hair.” He brushed a lost strand off her face and then traced her lips with his thumb like he’d done earlier that evening. “Hmm, no,” he moaned playfully. “Not even for your soft, beautiful lips. Although I _do_ want all of those things, too.”  
  
He paused and tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. Then he smiled and said, “I want you, Brienne. Only you, always you, and _a_ _ll_ of you.”  
  
Jaime didn’t wait for her to reply but slowly leaned in to kiss her. Such sweet salvation to feel his lips upon hers again, his mouth slowly opening, breathing her in and breathing his warmth into her. Brienne didn’t even notice that her hand had found its way to his neck and was she now gently combing her fingers through his thick, golden hair. She completely melted into him.  
  
Every last bit of her slowly surrendered to the desire to kiss him back, to his warm hands on her face, her neck, her arms. Jaime softly moaned against her mouth as she gently scratched her fingers over the back of his head. Even though he was very careful not to force her, Brienne felt how his entire being pulled her in like a magnet and she didn’t want to resist it any longer. She owed it to herself to let him close, because that’s what she wanted. She wanted to let him all the way in. And if she trusted him, if she felt safe with him, why couldn’t she just do it?  
  
Through a surge of bravery, Brienne moved herself against him, which fuelled Jaime’s hunger for her and that he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer and kissing her more intensely. His taste on her tongue was sweet like honey.  
  
Brienne was completely unable to distinguish her fear from her her desire, until she closed her eyes, Jaime’s grip around her waist tightened and he pressed his face against hers, trying to catch his breath. The sensation of his warm, hungry sighs against her ear made her flinch and push him away.  
  
“What? What did I do?” Jaime’s cheeks were slightly red and his eyes were cloudy, like he’d been so lost in their kiss that opening his eyes was like waking up from a dream. Seeing him so worried and confused simply broke her.  
  
 _Don’t cry,_ she told her self. _Don’t cry_.  
  
“I’m so sorry, I don’t-” Brienne didn’t even know what she wanted to say. She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice breaking as she unwillingly surrendered to her tears.  
  
“Hey, hey, it’s all right. Come here.” She gave him a wary look at first, but his warm smile and open arms were so inviting that she quickly leaned in to his embrace. Jaime softly stroked her hair as she rested her tired head against his strong shoulder.  
  
“I just- want you to know,” she sniffled through her tears, “that I don’t usually cry.” Jaime rolled his eyes and shook his head.  
  
“Of course you don’t,” he said. “Now, I don’t want to hear you apologising for these things anymore, okay? I’m sorry if I crossed a line.” Brienne quickly drew back.  
  
“No, you didn’t, I promise, it’s just- Sometimes these little things they just… Remind me of… you know.”  
  
“Yes, I know,” he said, gently touching her face. “We’ll take it slow - one day, one kiss, at a time. Just tell me what you do and do not want. You’re the boss.” Brienne chuckled.  
  
“Remind me to remind you of that.” Jaime smiled at his defeat, kissed her hair and then rested his chin on her head.  
  
“Gladly.”  
  
  
The days that followed were a complete blur. They had basically disappeared off the face of the earth, spending most of their time together in the living room, talking for hours – although Jaime did most of the talking and Brienne was listening for hours – cooking together, reading together. Sometimes they would just be doing their own thing and they’d exchange simple smiles.  
  
Whenever they went to bed in the early morning rather than the evening, Jaime would walk her to her room and give her two kisses: one on the right cheek and one on the lips. There was something so easy about being together with all this weight lifted from the space between them. When Brienne played the piano for him, he lay on his back on the rug, with his eyes closed. They enjoyed the music, the stories, the silence and everything in between.  
  
When Jaime tried to read a scene from a book that he thought was absolutely hilarious, he had to laugh so hard that Brienne couldn’t understand a single word. It didn’t happen very often, but when he laughed like that, he was almost like a child. Brienne found his boundless, easy, carefree joy completely enviable and highly contagious. Before she knew it, shehad her arms tight around her stomach, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had laughed like that, even though she never got to hear the actual joke.  
  
It was amazing, pretending to be the only two people in the entire world, just for a while. Even though they knew the reality of life would come knocking soon. And so it did. On Monday, they were finally allowed to go outside again. The fire was under control and even though there was still enough smoke outside that one wouldn’t go out just for fun, they could finally leave the house.  
  
On Wednesday, Brienne and Jaime went back into the office. Even though everybody – literally, _everybody_ – knew that there was something going on between them (thank you, office rumours), Brienne refused to let it show and insisted on going their separate ways as soon as they entered the building.  
  
About 30 minutes after arriving, Brienne had to run downstairs to get something some the reception and found Jaime still talking to someone in the lobby, where she'd left him. He waved at her with a smile so telling it made the other person beyond curious, but Brienne simply rolled her eyes, shook her head and looked away.  
  
Not long after, she was back on the third floor, with none of her colleagues – other than Renly – being remotely interested in her absence. Again.  
  
“Did I miss anything while I was away?” she asked as she went through a pile of paperwork on her desk.  
  
Renly shook his head but then said, “Actually, something came in the mail for you. It was sealed so I didn’t open it. I left it in your mailbox.” Brienne frowned at him.  
  
“Sealed? But they always open everything before it gets here.”  
  
Renly shrugged. “Must be from someone inside the office then.”  
  
Brienne skimmed through some of the paperwork on her way to her mailbox. Inside the red locker, there was a thick, brown envelope, sealed with tape and marked confidential, addressed to her. Brienne didn’t recognise the handwriting and there was no date on it.  
  
“When did it get here?”  
  
“I found it on Monday morning,” Renly said. Brienne walked back to her desk and opened the envelope to find a little note.   
  
_Brienne,  
  
_ _For your own safety I warn you to be very careful with what you’ll find inside this envelope. You and I are the only ones with this information. Please meet me Friday the 17 th at a restaurant called _King’s Landing _, just outside of town. I’ll be there at 8 pm.  
  
LA  
PS The access code is the day we met._  
  
Was this a joke? Who the fuck is LA? She didn’t know anyone with those initials. And she’d never heard of King’s Landing, either.  
  
“Do you have any idea who left this for me?” she asked. Renly must have picked up on her suspicion, because he got up and walked over to her desk.  
  
“No, why? What it is about?”  
  
Brienne turned the note over in her hand, but there was nothing written on the back.  
  
“I don’t know,” she said quietly.  
  
There was something at the bottom of the envelope and when she turned it upside down, a strange black and grey device in the shape of a triangle, fell into her hands. Having no idea what it was, she handed it to Renly, who studied it for a moment, turning it around a couple of times.   
  
It wasn't long before he realised what it was, removed the cap and handed the device back to Brienne.  
  
“It’s a flash drive,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know many of you were in desperate need of some answers.... Well, here you go, but... what good would answers be if they didn't raise any new questions, right? RIGHT? Anyone? Fine. Just me again.


	21. Chapter 21

“So, what does the note say?” Brienne sat staring at the peculiar looking device and didn’t respond until Renly said her name. Though his innocent brown eyes showed mainly curiosity, there was a hint of worry there, too. Feeling rather desperate for a clue, she handed the note to him and watched his eyes scan the words.  
  
The crease in his forehead betrayed his confusion. “LA? Who’s that?”  
  
Brienne shook her head and took the note back, reading it again. “That’s what I would like to know.”  
  
“Maybe you should just check what’s on the flash drive. I’m sure you’ll know then.” For a moment, she thought he was kidding, but when he raised his eyebrows, clearly awaiting her approval of his brilliant suggestion, she folded the note and put it back in the envelope.  
  
“And how exactly would I go about unlocking it if I don’t know who sent it to me in the first place? How am I supposed to know when I met this person if I don’t know who it is?!”  
  
“I’m sure it can’t be _that_ hard,” Renly said. “It’s not like you know tons of people.” Brienne raised one eyebrow at him and he quickly added, “Here, I mean. You don’t know many people _here_.” Brienne ignored him, distracted by a couple of men standing outside the office.  
  
Renly did not seem too bothered by their obnoxiously loud laughter, and steadily continued his investigation. “Okay so it’s definitely someone from the inside, but my guess is that it’s not someone you know very well, because they would have sent something so private to your home address, wouldn’t they?” Brienne was still only half-listening, watching the men out in the corridor shake hands as they said goodbye. “Now as for the handwriting,” Renly continued, “I’d say it’s a woman’s hand… But then again, if you look at the-” He never got to finish his fascinating deduction, because Brienne suddenly jumped up.  
  
“Oh my god,” she said quietly. “I know who it is. I know who sent me this!” Renly was so excited by this breakthrough that he got up as well.  
  
“Great! Who is it?”  
  
Pretending not to have heard his question, Brienne turned to face him and asked, “Can you get Margaery to come down here?” He frowned, perhaps surprised or maybe even a little offended.  
  
“Margaery? What for?”  
  
“Just… just do it, please. Ask her to meet me in 3.18. Now.”  
  
  
Brienne had been pacing back and forth for a few minutes when someone knocked on the door. Margaery’s eyes were wide with anticipation when she entered the room.  
  
“What’s going on? Renly said you received some kind of mysterious letter?” Brienne held the note up to her.

“It’s from Lysa Bolton. Arryn. Whatever – she wants to meet with me.” Her voice was flooded by Margaery’s loud gasp.  
  
“What? How? When? And _why_?”  
  
“She sent me this, too. It’s a flash drive.” Margaery studied the device for a moment, with a frown on her face.  
  
“That’s the weirdest looking drive I’ve ever seen,” she said. “What’s on it?”  
  
“I haven’t checked yet. That’s why I asked Renly to call you.”  
  
“Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s find out.” Margaery enthusiastically inserted the flash drive into the PC on the desk, but nothing happened. With a subtle grunt, she took it out, waited and tried again. “Why is it not showing up?”  
  
“Check if there’s another cap or a cover somewhere,” Brienne suggested. “I think the hardware is encrypted, so there has to be a key pad on there, somewhere.” Margaery was poking and prodding at the device with her long nails, until she heard a click.  
  
“Found it!” she exclaimed before she handed it to Brienne, who typed in the date of her encounter with Lysa and watched the little light above the keys instantly turn green.  
  
Before she could put it back in the computer, Margaery grabbed her arm and said, “Wait! Maybe you shouldn’t use these computers. Can’t they track every single thing we do? What if there’s something bad on it? Like a virus or whatever? Maybe she’s trying to set a trap in some fucked up way. She is married to Roose Bolton, after all.” Brienne lowered her hand, realising Margaery was probably right. “I think you should use your private laptop. And then call me straight after, to let me know what’s on there.”  
  
“Do you really think it’s a trap?” Brienne asked.  
  
Margaery’s eyes scanned over the note again. “No… I don’t think so. I think it’s something else.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Evidence,” she said.  
  
  
To finally see the sky again was like welcoming the spring after a long, dark winter. Brienne enjoyed how the sunlight came pouring from the heavens to warm her face through the windscreen. It didn’t even bother her that she had to squint her eyes to see the road.  
  
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jaime observed as he turned in his seat.  
  
“I’m always quiet.”  
  
“Not like this. What’s going on? Did something happen at work? Was it Bolton?” Brienne nervously checked her mirrors.  
  
“Nothing happened. I’m just tired, that’s all.”  
  
“You’re lying. Why are you lying?” She sighed and adjusted her seatbelt. It suddenly felt like it was slowly suffocating her.  
  
“It was just a stressful day...” Jaime was clearly not convinced. “Bolton didn’t do anything other than being a rude prick. He left Renly and me with a ton of work and ridiculous deadlines.” If Jaime still didn’t believe her, he kept it well hidden, because he started a rant about not being able to go on a business trip and didn’t shut up until they reached his house.  
  
The anxiety was slowly killing her, and so Brienne made up some lame excuse, went directly to her room and turned on her laptop. At least, she tried to. Of course now that she _really_ needed the old thing to work, it decided to die on her. Brienne stared at the dark screen for a long moment.  
  
“Fucking hell,” she muttered, aggressively slamming the power button a couple of times. She might have been an IT specialist, hardware was definitely not her thing. “Come one!” she yelled. “What do I have to do to get this bloody thing to work?!”  
  
Right at that moment, Jaime walked past her room, and asked, “Is everything all right?” His voice startled her and she quickly turned around. For a moment, she wondered if him showing up when he did was an answer to her question.  
  
“It’s fine,” she said with clear annoyance ringing in her voice. “My laptop’s just not working.” Jaime leaned against the door frame and stared at her through the room.  
  
“Oh... You can use mine if you like. What do you need it for?” Brienne turned back to the broken laptop and closed her eyes. It seemed like the gods of fate were trying to tell her something.  
  
“I wasn’t honest with you, before,” she said without turning around. Behind her, Jaime entered the room and sat down on the bed.  
  
“I know,” he said without any amount or anger or hurt or judgement. His voice was nothing but warm.  
  
“How?” Brienne asked, but before Jaime could reply, she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Of course. Margaery.”  
  
“Don’t be mad at her. She only wants what’s best for you. She’s worries, you know?” Brienne turned around in her seat to look at him.  
  
“I’m sure she does. What did she tell you?”  
  
“Not much. Just that you received a strange message and that you probably wouldn’t tell me about it.” Brienne shook her head. As much as she wanted to be mad at Margaery, she simply couldn’t.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said. “I just didn’t want to drag you into anything before I knew what it was.” Jaime stood up and came over to gently stroke her face.  
  
“Surely by now you must know that you can tell me anything? I don’t need you to protect me, okay? We’re in this together. Whatever _this_ may be.” He pressed a kiss on her hair and smiled at her.

  
When Brienne showed him what she had found, Jaime barely responded. He didn’t speak a single word and it was difficult to read his face. All he did when she finished explaining, was ask her what she thought was on the flash drive. Brienne shrugged and shook her head.  
  
“Nothing good, I imagine.”  
  
Jaime nodded. “I think you’re right. But it could be incredibly valuable information. Who knows, it could change the entire game.”  
  
 _How ironic that he should use the word ‘game’_ , Brienne thought. _That’s exactly what Bolton used to call it.  
_  
A couple of minutes later, Brienne found herself in the kitchen, watching Jaime over the edge of his laptop. As curious as he was, he had insisted on sitting on the other side of the table, because there could be things on there that were best kept unseen by him.  
  
Brienne wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans. “I’m nervous,” she admitted, not entirely on purpose. It was meant to be just a thought, but without realising it, she’d said the words out loud.  
  
“I know,” Jaime replied quietly. “But I’m right here, all right?” He put his hand with the back on the table as an invitation, but Brienne just looked down at it and shook her head.  
  
“My hands are all sweaty.”  
  
“I don’t care,” Jaime said. She gave him a nervous smile and placed her hand in his. With the other hand, she typed in the passcode until the light flashed green. Then she inserted it into Jaime’s laptop and waited for the device to show up.  
  
“Is it working?” he asked. Brienne nodded. “What do you see?” Her eyes darted across the screen as new files kept popping up. Some of them were documents, but mostly there were images, audio files and video clips. They kept coming, flickering over the screen as one file made room for another, and another ten, and another twenty.  
  
“I- I’m not sure,” she said, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. “Mostly pictures and... videos of some sort.” Jaime frowned.  
  
When the files finished loading, Brienne started scrolling through the page. “Jesus,” she gasped. “There are over seven hundred files on here.”  
  
“Seven hundred?!” Jaime repeated incredulously. Although the thumbnails of the images and videos were small, and taken from odd angles, Brienne was able to recognise a room in some of them.  
  
“It’s Bolton’s office,” she said, scrolling further down.  
  
“In the photos? Is there anyone you recognise?” She slowly nodded and reluctantly opened one of the files. It was Roose Bolton, holding a brown haired girl, or woman, pinned down over his desk. Brienne instantly felt sick, but forced herself to click on the next image, which showed the same situation, but probably a few seconds before or after the first. She was glad that she couldn’t see the girl’s face. Her stomach clenched so tightly that she twisted her face and the realisation of what she was seeing punched her in the throat and made her gag.  
  
It was his private collection. Over the years he had gathered photographs and video recordings of his own assault on women. Involuntarily, she pictured him behind his desk, jerking off to his own trail of destruction. Brienne didn’t need to open any more of the files to know what they were. The previews alone were enough to know it was all more of the same. She guessed there were about eight different women. Some pictures were taken in an unfamiliar room in a house she didn’t know.  
  
Scrolling through them, she stumbled upon a vaguely familiar image of a room with a flip chart. As soon as the video and audio started playing, she slammed the laptop shut and clasped her hand over her mouth. Her reaction startled Jaime.  
  
“What happened? What was that?” Brienne vigorously shook her head. “Brienne, what is it, tell me!”  
  
There was barely enough room for her voice to seep through her fingers when she said, “It’s me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He recorded me.”  
  
“Recorded you _how_?” Jaime urged.  
  
“That sick _fuck…_ He _filmed_ me.” Jaime was too stupefied to reply, but Brienne took a deep breath in and opened the laptop again. There was more. Much more. Photos taken from one of the ladies’ bathroom stalls, video clips filmed from weird angles, like he had a camera hidden in his clothes.  
  
Brienne closed the laptop and sighed miserably. “I knew I wasn’t the only one.”  
  
Jaime looked at her, flames of dark blue in his eyes, and said, “Do you realise what this means? This could be the end of Roose Bolton.”

Brienne didn’t go into detail about what she saw and Jaime didn’t feel the need to see it for himself or ask about it any more. His heart was conflicted. Part of him was sad for Brienne, and another part of him was strapping on his armour and preparing for battle. Brienne and Jaime had adopted a habit of eating rather late and taking a lot of time to prepare their dinner, but feeling they could both use a bit of fresh air, Jaime suggested they’d go for a walk first. Brienne seemed hesitant at first, but was easily convinced when he assured her that the subject of Roose Bolton would be off limits.  
  
They walked through the garden into the woods to find the little field sheltered by the trees and that’s where they sat down so Jaime could rest. Brienne sat cross-legged, fiddling with a little daisy as Jaime lay himself down in the grass with a deep sigh. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked at her. _Strong, beautiful_ _ly_ _complicated Brienne._ Jaime realised he had never met anyone with whom it was so easy to just be still. To just _be._ He could be in the darkness and the silence and still feel carried by music and light. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. The edge of a burning knife cruelly twisted in his chest.  
  
“You know… You have astonishing eyes,” he said, knowing it would make her feel uncomfortable. She punched him in the shoulder with a loud click of her tongue and turned away from him. Even though he shouldn’t, making her blush always did something to him. Her eyes were so powerful, so full of stories.  
  
It wasn’t the amount of time that they had spent together, it was the amount of attention he had paid. He knew her eyes well enough to know that sometimes, when it was rainy, they were grey, and when she was happy they were blue like a beautiful lagoon. He knew that sometimes, in moments like these, when she was staring up at the canopy with the sunlight dancing through the leaves, and the wind sweeping through the grass, her eyes were almost green like the sky above and the world below had become one.  
  
Lately he had found a new shade of Brienne. It was a rare look, he’d seen it only t wo, maybe three time. In those moments, she looked at him with her eyes large and dark as sapphires, like when the moon shares the sky with the sun and the clouds in this perfect moment, and the whole world dangles between night and day on a thread of silk, so fragile and easily broken. It was his favourite look, because he was convinced it meant that somewhere deep down, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. It was the perfect wordless promise that he held on to when he was in bed at night, and all he could see was her face, all he heard was her voice and all he could feel were his hands yearning to touch her skin.  
  
It was torture, but the very best kind.  
  
When Jaime woke up from his day dream, he noticed that Brienne was looking at something in the trees. She seemed uneasy.  
  
“Something wrong?” he asked.  
  
Without looking back at him, she replied, “Do you ever feel like you’re being watched when you come out here?” Jaime propped himself up on his elbows and followed her gaze.  
  
“Um… I don’t think so… Why? Do you?” She shook her head and lay down in the grass.  
  
“I’m probably just paranoid.” Jaime scanned the edge of the field but didn’t see anything, so h e rested back and turned on to his side, watching Brienne star ing at the clouds. Her eyelashes were pale and long, her cheeks were slightly red and her neck was long and slim. There was a sudden rustle in the bushes and Brienne scrambled to her feet with Jaime slowly following her lead.  
  
“See!” she exclaimed. “I knew there was something out there.”  
  
Jaime, who was still trying to get up with his one crutch, chuckled. “Well we _are_ in the middle of the woods. There’s this thing called wildlife. Could be a fox or a badger. Maybe a boar.”  
  
Brienne shook her head. “It’s bigger than that. Maybe we should go back.”  
  
Jaime was still struggling and groaned, “A little help here?” Brienne could only look away from the trees for a second to pull him to his feet.  
  
“I’m serious. I think I see something.” Seemingly unsure about whether to slowly back away or calmly approach, she crouched down as she saw a dark shadow moving behind the leaves of a fern the size of a small horse. The four-legged creature was dark grey, and definitely larger than a fox or a badger.  
  
“What the...” Jaime was too busy dusting off his clothes to notice Brienne slowly backing away, until she grabbed his hand and said, in a hushed voice, “Don’t make any sudden movements.”  
  
“Why? What is it?”  
  
“Ssshh… I think- Oh Jesus !” Brienne stumbled back and tripped over Jaime’s crutch, falling to the ground. When she looked up again, the creature had emerged from the shadows of the t rees and now stood face to face with them.  
  
Jaime turned around and saw the confusion in her eyes when he didn’t panic. Then he started laughing.

“Ha… That’s nothing to be afraid of. That’s Cat,” he said airily, as though that explained everything.  
  
“A cat? That’s not a cat, that’s a fucking _wolf_! And a big one, at that,” argued Brienne, scrambling to her feet again and ushering Jaime to get a move on. “And I think we should leave. _Now_!”  
  
“Well done Forester Tarth! You’ve solved the mystery. Of course it’s a bloody wolf, but her _name_ is Cat.” Brienne slowly looked from Jaime back to the wolf, who still stood motionless in the same spot, its front paws disappearing in the grass, its yellow eyes staring at them, never blinking.  
  
“Tell me I did not hear you correctly,” she said as she looked at Jaime again. “Tell me you did not just say that the _wolf_ has a _name_. And the _name_ is _Cat_?!” She was acting so dramatic that Jaime had to stop himself from laughing.  
  
“It is. It’s Catelyn, actually. Cat, for short.” Brienne threw her hands up and then quickly looked back at the wolf to make sure she hadn’t angered it into a fatal attack.  
  
“Oh!” she exclaimed, but still using a hushed voice, “Of course! It’s short for Catelyn, because that– as a name for a wolf – makes so much more sense than Cat! What are you, Mowgli?” When Jaime tried to approach the animal, Brienne grabbed his arm to stop him. “Mowgli with a death wish?” she hissed at him.  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jaime said. “She won’t hurt us. She’s a friendly wolf... I think.” Brienne rolled her eyes and pulled on Jaime’s arm.  
  
“Oh, you _think_ she’s friendly, do you? Well, that puts me right at ease.” Jaime ignored her sarcasm.  
  
“She mostly hangs around the poppy field, but sometimes she comes down to visit this part of the woods. Ella was the first one to find her, but she was a smaller then. The wolf I mean.” Jaime then turned to the animal and added, “You’ve really grown up haven’t you?! Look at you! Such beauty! Don’t you think she’s a beauty?” Brienne sighed, finally releasing some of her tension.  
  
Jaime chuckled and continued, “I guess you were right. Someone _was_ watching you. She does that sometimes. I mean...”– he looked Brienne up and down in a cheeky manner - “you cant really blame her for staring at you.”  
  
“Ugh, please,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as usual.  
  
The wolf slowly stepped into the field and Brienne gasped.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re _a_ _fraid_? Here I was thinking you were fearless! Imagine my disappointment finding out you’re _s_ _cared_ of a big, fluffy dog.” She elbowed him in the ribs and Jaime doubled over, scaring the wolf back into the bushes.  
  
“Oh, piss off,” Brienne hissed.  
  
“Awww,” Jaime whined, rubbing his hand over his side, “Now look what you’ve done, You’ve scared her away! Didn’t want to share my attention with her, did you?” Brienne might have tried to act annoyed, not even her best efforts could prevent her from smiling.  
  
“You’re so full of yourself,” she said, before she turned around and strode away, carefully looking over her shoulder from time to time, to make sure that _Cat the wolf_ had really gone.  
  
  
Brienne had clearly never heard of romance, because she didn’t slow down or come back to walk with him. Instead, she just went straight to the house and made fun of Jaime showing up a good 10 minutes after her. She had already started cooking when he joined her in the kitchen.  
  
“I’m coming with you, next Friday,” Jaime announced. “I’ll wait in the car if you prefer, but I’m going to come with you to King’s Landing.”  
  
Brienne gave him a sideways glance. “Why? Are you afraid she’s going to abduct me and drive me off a cliff?”  
  
“It’s not up for discussion,” he said, hiding his pleased smile.  
  
After a moment of silence, Brienne looked at him and confessed, “I was actually hoping you’d say that.” They exchanged smiles and continued preparing their meal. Jaime tried to concentrate on cutting the cucumber in cubes of equal size – something Brienne didn’t and never would understand – but it was hard not to get distracted by how she frowned at the pots and pans on the stove. She turned the fire up and tried to figure out which lid belonged to which pot.  
  
“I do hate it when you look at me like that,” she said without looking up. Jaime chuckled.  
  
“My apologies,” he said, not in the least bit sincere, “I simply can’t help myself.” She rolled her eyes and tried to suppress a smile, but failed.  
  
After a few minutes of silence, the pasta started to boil over and a foamy liquid squeezed past the lid and drizzled down on to the stove. Brienne muttered and cursed at the sizzling and splattering and tried to lift the lid, but it was so hot that she dropped it right on the handle of a saucepan, sending the boiling hot sauce all over her shirt.  
  
“Aargh! Fuck! Fuck fuck _fuck_!” she exclaimed, pulling on her shirt.  
  
Jaime quickly hurried around the kitchen island to help her. “Take it off!” he called over the sound of the running tap. He held a clean kitchen towel under the running water and turned around to Brienne, who had done as he’d said at taken off her t-shirt. Her porcelain skin had immediately turned a nasty shade of red all over her stomach, up to her chest. Jaime quickly pressed the cool towel against her angry skin and Brienne took a sharp breath in through her teeth.  
  
“Hold it there,” Jaime said, while he reached for another towel in the cupboard. He gently pressed the wet cloth down on her skin and she closed her eyes.  
  
“Jesus,” she muttered.  
  
“You can say that again,” Jaime agreed. “Are you okay?” Brienne looked down at her bare skin and nodded.  
  
“Yeah, I’m okay.” As Jaime lifted the towel from her skin, he could see a pattern of red marks all over her torso. It looked almost like an upside down maple tree. He held both towels under the tap again and wrapped two bags of frozen vegetables in them.  
  
When he turned around, Brienne had sat down on the kitchen counter, her arms across her chest. For a second, Jaime froze in place, but the way she smiled at him told him that she felt safe. He gently covered her with the towels and his his voice was only half as strong as he had meant to sound, when he said, “I’ll get you something to wear.”  
  
Jaime soon returned with one of his own white button-up shirts, and grabbed some ointment from his first aid kit. Brienne put his shirt around her shoulders and watched him unscrew the cap. Right before he touched her, he paused and looked up.  
  
“Maybe you should do it yourself,” he suggested quietly, holding the tube out to her. Even though he was looking down, Jaime felt her eyes on his face, and then her hand over his.  
  
“No,” she said, “You do it.”  
  
“Are you sure?” She nodded and scooted forward on the counter to make it easier for him. He opened her shirt a little more to expose the damaged skin that was now swollen, but less angry red and more like the edges of a pink rose.  
  
Thankfully the burns weren’t too bad. There were no blisters or anything like that. Jaime slowly stepped closer in between her legs and touched her stomach to apply the ointment on it. When he looked up to meet her eyes, he felt a slight stir in his groin.  
  
 _Oh for fuck’s sake_ , he thought. _Not now_.  
  
He turned his hips slightly, to prevent her from noticing. The further Jaime’s hand moved up, the more difficult it became to hide what he was feeling – as much as he didn’t want to feel it. Her warm skin, though injured, was so soft and smooth underneath his hands that it turned his ears red. She was wearing a simple black bra, exactly as – no matter how it hurt to admit it – he had often imagined. Jaime grunted quietly and shuffled around a bit.  
  
“Are you okay?” Brienne asked, a worried frown on her beautiful face. Then the unavoidable happened, and she looked down. Well, there was really no way around it.

“Oh...” she said. Jaime turned around, cursing himself.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he muttered. “This is completely inappropriate.” Brienne touched his arm and pulled him back in.  
  
“It’s okay, Jaime. You don’t have to apologise.” In his heart, he knew that she meant it, but still he felt incredibly embarrassed. The last thing he wanted was to make her think that all he thought about was having sex with her, because it wasn’t. Although, to be fair, he had been thinking about that an awful lot lately.  
  
Jaime swallowed as he reached the last burn, above the edge of her bra on her right breast, and made sure to be extra gentle as his fingers moved across her skin in circular motions.  
  
“Don’t forget to breathe,” Brienne whispered. Without realising it, he had been holding his breath, and now released it with a nervous chuckle. When he was done applying the ointment, he started buttoning her shirt, starting in the middle to cover her up as soon as possible, and to stop his mad lust from spreading through his veins.  
  
It felt so counter intuitive to be buttoning up her shirt while all he wanted was to rip the fabric off her skin, attack her throat with hungry kisses and let his greedy hands knead that beautiful soft skin. Jaime felt her quick breaths in his hair and tried to think of a way to distract himself from his limitless desire for her, from how he physically ached for her. Trying to reset his mind, he shook his head, clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.  
  
Then he felt how Brienne slowly wrapped her long legs around his back and it was the most unexpected thing ever. Her breathing intensified, telling him she was incredibly nervous, but Jaime was afraid to say something, even if it was just to reassure her. The whole moment felt as fragile as glass, as the first snowflakes in winter. A hundredth of a degree too warm, and he’d never even know it was there. Her fingers combed through his hair as she took his face in her hands.  
  
“I realised something earlier,” she said.  
  
“What’s that?” Jaime's words were little more than a sigh or a whisper.  
  
“Roose Bolton can’t set me free. No one can. Only _I_ can set me free, and I want to take back what is mine. I want to take back control.” With that, she grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and firmly pulled him in, so that he bumped into the counter and crashed into her as she pushed herself against him.  
  
Her kiss washed over him with such force that for a moment, he thought he would completely collapse. It was the first time that she had kissed him. _Really_ kissed him. And it was quite something. It was the first time he felt her sweet tongue and her confidence inside his mouth, the first time she bit his lip, ever so softly, and the first time her hands wandered over his back and under his shirt.  
  
It was easy to lose himself in her, and a lot harder to stay in charge of his lust, trying not to hurt her in _any_ way or cross any boundaries – visible or otherwise. When she released him to catch her breath, he showered her neck with kisses like he’d been wanting to do for days, weeks, months.  
  
If this was his last moment on earth, it would be a damn good one. Brienne threw her head back and moaned softly as Jaime kissed her bare shoulder. When he buried his face in the he crook of her neck, she giggled quietly.  
  
Jaime wrapped his arms tightly around her, and sighed, “I love you. I really fucking love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the final countdown my little darlings! Only one more chapter and the epilogue left now. Such a strange (and strangely terrifying?!) idea that it's almost over. I hope you enjoyed it so far! Byeeeeeeee <3


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Game over.

It was a night as any other, when Brienne lay staring at the ceiling, watching the minutes slowly tick past. Every night seemed to be getting longer and longer without Jaime and knowing that he was just a few doors away from her made things only worse. She smiled into the darkness, remembering how she had kissed him the kitchen, and there was a flutter in her stomach that made her turn on her side and chuckle quietly.  
  
Simply closing her eyes was enough to conjure the feeling of his hands on her skin and his lips on hers. He’d looked so embarrassed when she saw that he was hard, fearing it would scare, offend, pressure or even disgust her. It didn’t. If anything, she felt flattered, almost proud, like she had some secret power over him. Something he couldn’t control. A man’s arousal could be a dangerous thing, she knew. A weapon against women. But it could also be beautiful, and fragile in its intimacy.  
  
Brienne felt strangely liberated at the realisation that she could still feel this sort of attraction, this appeal of a man’s body, this need, this desire to be with him. Physically, emotionally – in any way possible.  
For a long time, she thought she had become completely incapable of feeling any kind of sexual desire. _What a joke._ There was clearly – _clearly_ – nothing wrong with her desire. Although all they had done so far was kiss, in her mind she had already slept with him a thousand times and in those moments she was always free of her demons; no fear holding her back. Those were only dreams though, because her memories and her trauma were still a little too fresh and her wounds had all but healed.  
  
She wanted the first time with Jaime to be with _only_ Jaime. Her ghosts would not be welcome there, and right now, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep them out just yet. Just because she didn’t feel completely ready just yet, didn’t mean she didn’t want to. Because she wanted to. She really, _really_ wanted to. She just couldn’t. Not yet. But the walls around her, built of all the things once taken from her, were slowly crumbling down and the sun that came seeping through the cracks was almost hypnotising, and the promise of Jaime waiting on the other side made her want to burst right through.  
  
Admittedly, it took her a long time, but eventually Brienne began to realise that these walls, meant to keep her safe, had become her prison. She was just like a sailboat, drifting aimlessly in the same darkness, hoping someday soon, the wind would blow her home. But night after night she’d find herself staring at the same endlessly empty horizon. Maybe new pain couldn’t reach her through the thorns and the flames surrounding her heart, she couldn’t let any of the old pain _out_ , either. In fact, there was no escaping it, for it was trapped inside herself. Keeping out any new clouds of darkness, consequently meant keeping new light from coming in. And what of her own light? That tiny flickering flame inside? She owed it to herself to let it grow, to _give_ herself. Her kindness, her heart. Because there was so much to give, and the fear of losing shouldn’t keep anyone from trying.  
  
All this twisting and turning made Brienne even more awake. When she checked the time on her phone, it was almost 3 am already. She tapped her fingers against the mattress until she could no longer stand the emptiness and silence of the room. Sure, she could just surrender her mind to sleep, let it fill her head with dreams of Jaime. Dreams in which he held her pinned to the wall, kissing her neck. Dreams where she could feel his beard scratching roughly against her skin as he moved down, and down, and down. And she, she would wrap her arms around his warm body, sliding her fingers slowly down his sides, rolling her hips against his weight. Yes, she could just go to sleep, but the dreams she had of him were not enough. She swiftly grabbed her pillow from the bed and left her room.  
  
“Jaime?” she whispered against the door. “Are you awake?” She held her breath to ensure there was complete silence, but her heart beat so loudly that she didn’t hear him coming to the door. He startled her when he opened it and appeared, wearing black boxer shorts and his hair all messy in the best possible way. Jaime had finally been cleared to trade the leg brace for a flexible one that made him a hundred times more mobile. “Did I wake you?” she asked.  
  
“No,” he lied. “What is it?”  
  
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Jaime rubbed his eyes and then moved his hands across his chest. He looked so warm and sleepy that it made Brienne’s skin tingle.  
  
“Are you sure?” he croaked, clearly confused. When she nodded, he opened the door to let her in and she hurried over to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. The sheets were all white and smelled like cedar wood and lavender.  
  
“Would you mind opening the curtains a little bit?” Jaime, who still seemed half asleep and entirely unable to produce a verbal reply, pushed the curtains open and then walked over to the bed. Maybe he thought he was dreaming, because he seemed so terribly confused.  
  
Brienne needed a moment to perfectly position herself between the pillows and the covers. Then she kicked her feet a couple of times to warm up the cool fabric, before she lay down with a loud, satisfied sigh. The mattress was firm and slightly uneven from always sleeping in the same spot. Jaime slowly got back into bed and pulled on the duvet, instantly dissolving the barrier that separated them. Brienne could feel his warmth reaching for her under the covers and leaned into it ever so slightly. Jaime lay on his back with his left arm under his head and Brienne’s eyes lingered on the soft curve of his muscles.  
  
“I just came here to sleep,” she said, as if he had asked her something.  
  
He turned his head to face her and replied, “I know.”  
  
“Okay… I think it’s best if you don’t hold me while I’m asleep.”  
  
“I know,” he repeated. “Would it make you feel better if I slept in the chair?” Brienne looked at the uncomfortable-looking arm chair that clearly no one had _ever_ used, and then frowned at him.  
  
“No, I want you to stay. I’m just saying, I don’t want to hurt you.” He groaned softly and turned on his side.  
  
“You’re already hurting me by being in my bed, telling me I can’t touch you,” he said. Brienne’s face fell as doubt settled over her. “It was a joke,” he quickly added. “I didn’t mean it.” Jaime paused for a second and then admitted, “Okay fine, I sort of meant it, but not in that way, you know.” They lay face to face, both with one hand under their pillows and the other between their bodies, until Brienne gently touched his face, to brush a couple of stray hairs from his forehead.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” she whispered. Looking at him in the darkness and the warmth of his bed, part of her wanted to climb on top of him and dig her nails in his chest as she kissed him, but she felt like that would be unfair to him, so she didn’t.  
  
“Good night, Jaime,” she said, leaning his way to kiss him. Their lips met for a warm, uncomplicated kiss.  
  
“Good night, Brienne,” he said. She stared at his closed eyes for what felt like hours, wondering if his dreams were the same as hers.  
  
  
They hadn’t really discussed the matter of Roose Bolton until Tuesday evening, after work. Brienne had just finished folding the laundry and Jaime was in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher, when the doorbell rang.  
  
“I’ll get it,” she called from the hallway. When she opened the door, she found a handsome man, roughly the same age as Jaime, but with olive skin and shiny dark hair to match his shiny dark eyes. There was a cheekiness to his grin that made Brienne feel slightly uncomfortable. Behind him, she saw a black car driving away.  
  
“You must be Brienne,” the man said, revealing a pearly white smile. There was something odd in the way he looked at her. Like he could see right through her, or didn’t see her at all.  
  
“And you are?” Brienne asked.  
  
“I’m a friend of Jaime’s. Is he here?” Brienne suppressed a frown and called Jaime to the door.  
  
“Now that’s what I call a surprise!” Jaime exclaimed upon joining them. They hugged for a long time, frantically patting each other on the back the way only men do.  
  
“Brienne, I see you’ve met Oberyn. He’s an old friend of mine.” Oberyn drew back and reached out his hand.  
  
“Careful who you call _old_ ,” he exclaimed. “You might think you’re the _Golden Boy_ , but you’re not fooling anyone with that plastic smile of yours.” Jaime ran his fingers through his hair, laughing in a way that made Brienne doubt whether he felt amused or embarrassed. Brienne shook Oberyn’s hand and looked back and forth between the two. “Does he still have a plastic smile, Brienne? I can’t tell.”  
  
She didn’t think it possible, but she felt even more confused than before. “I um- I don’t...”  
  
Jaime shook his head. “Don’t mind him, Brienne. He has an odd sense of humour.”  
  
“It’s true,” Oberyn admitted. “Forgive me. It’s called overcompensation. I use it to make up for my poor vision.” He waved his hand in front of his eyes. “Literally!”  
  
“He’s blind,’ Jaime explained.  
  
“ _Aye_ , legally blind. A legally blind lawyer, isn’t that ironic? Oberyn Martell, nice to meet you.” As Jaime assisted him up and down the steps inside the house, they laughed about something Brienne didn’t understand. She had never met a blind person and she had never thought about their professions, but a blind lawyer is definitely something she wouldn’t have considered.  
  
“I was in the neighbourhood, visiting a client of mine,” Oberyn announced when they sat down on the sofa. “So I thought I’d swing by to see what’s up with this crazy story.” Brienne and Jaime exchanged looks and Oberyn took a sharp breath in. “ _Oof_ , there’s an awkward silence. You didn’t tell her that you called me?”  
  
“No, he didn’t,” Brienne said, glaring at Jaime.  
  
“Oberyn is a lawyer. He’s my oldest friend. We went to college together.” Oberyn snorted.  
  
“I’m your _only_ friend. And I’ve always liked your little brother more than I like you. How is he, by the way?”  
  
“He’s good,” Jaime replied. “Anyway, before you get any ideas, I only called him for legal advice.”  
  
“Jaime told me the perpetrator in question happens to be your boss. Is that true?” Brienne nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see her.  
  
“Yes,” she quickly said, when Jaime gave her a cetrain look. “He is.”  
  
“And his wife sent you a flash drive with evidence. Photographs, videos; the whole lot, correct?”  
  
“Yes, that’s correct.”  
  
Oberyn laughed and shook his head. “Are there recognisable faces in the videos? Can you hear the victims protest against his actions? Is it obvious that-” Jaime cleared his throat and Oberyn’s blind eyes shot back and forth across between him and Brienne. “Please excuse me. I get very excited about taking these fuckers down.”  
  
Brienne couldn’t help but chuckle. “I can see that,” she said.  
  
“Well that makes one of us. Anyway, I need to talk to you about meeting his lady. There are a couple of things you need to consider. You’ve got something really great here, Brienne. Terrible, but great.”  
  
“I um...” Brienne muttered. “To be honest I don’t really know what to do.” Oberyn smiled and casually leaned back. For a moment, although quite impossible, it felt as though he could really see her.  
  
“That’s why I’m here.”  
  
  
It had been absolute hell trying to keep Margaery and Renly off her back in the days that followed. One didn’t need much time to find that Margaery was rather persistent in her quest for answers, but Brienne never thought she would find her match in Renly Baratheon.  
  
“Gods,” Brienne complained as they followed her and Jaime to her car on Friday, “You guys really don’t know when to give up, do you?”  
  
“It’s just that we’re really worried for you. We don’t want to see you get hurt,” Renly said. Brienne raised her eyebrows and Jaime used the crook of his arm to muffle a loud, sarcastic snort.  
  
“Oh, please,” Brienne argued. “You’re just two curious little shits.”  
  
Margaery huffed indignantly, but then admitted, “Fine. We love the thrill. Nothing ever happens around here! We need the _spice_ , you know?” Jaime frowned at her over Renly’s shoulder.  
  
Brienne could think of a dozen things off the top of her head, that had happened over the last three months, that would surely be considered _spice_. Quite frankly, she could do with a little _less_ spice.  
  
In that regard, at least.  
  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything yet. Lawyer’s orders.”  
  
“You have a lawyer? Since when? That’s so… _proactive_ of you.” Margaery turned to Jaime. “ _You_. What have you done to the old Bri?” Jaime gave her an innocent smile and Margaery replied with a wrinkle of the nose. “ _Ugh_ , I don’t need to know that.”  
  
Brienne shook her head and opened the car door. “It’s been lots of fun, and I’d love to stay and chat, but I really have to go now. I’ll tell you when I can.”  
  
Margaery rolled her eyes and punched Jaime in the arm. “I liked her more when I thought her name was Leanne,” she complained. Brienne had no idea what she was talking about, but thought it best not to ask.  
  
  
When they got home, Brienne changed her outfit three times. In the end, she settled on a button down shirt of dark blue silk and a pair of simple black trousers. On their way to King’s Landing, Jaime respected Brienne’s need for silence and didn’t speak much. She had no idea what to expect and her hands were so sweaty she was constantly rubbing her thighs.  
  
When they parked the car, Jaime put a hand on her knee and said, “I’ll be right here if you need me. Remember what Oberyn told you.” Is it possible for a person to lie by simply nodding? If so, then that’s what she did. Everything he had told her with all his best intentions and her best interest at heart, was completely gone as soon as she stepped out of the car.  
  
The restaurant was tall, and square, its impressive white walls covered in wisteria vines. The pathway that led to the entrance was tastefully lit by torches on either side and the pebbles crunched under her feet. As soon as she entered, a waiter came up to her to escort her to a room in the back of the building, where all the tables were separated by wooden screens decorated with fake vines and pink flowers. It made every table feel incredibly private and exclusive.  
  
Lysa wore a white skirt suit with a thin red belt around her waist and incredibly high red heels. She didn’t get up when Brienne reached the table, but thanked the waiter and ordered a bottle of wine.  
  
“Brienne. Thank you for meeting me.” When she started talking, Brienne tried desperately to remember everything Oberyn had told her, but all his words were miles away and out of reach. When the waiter brought the wine, Lysa proceeded to tell her about the flash drive.  
  
Apparently, she had paid one of the security people at Winterfell Inc to search through Bolton’s office on his evening rounds. He wouldn’t have found the camera in the bookcase if it weren’t for the empty box and receipt he found in Bolton’s desk drawer. After that, Lysa started searching through his private study in their house and, being rather practised in the art of snooping, she found a small safe. The key she found a few days after that, in their bedroom. It didn’t sound like a very solid plan, but Lysa suggested that might have been part of the thrill for him. Not just the idea that he had a huge private collection, but also that it was relatively easy to find, if one only knew where to look and what to look for. In his safe Lysa found a bunch of memory cards. There was no need to explain what else happened.  
  
“What changed your mind? It was very clear you didn’t believe me at first.” Lysa shrugged and sipped her wine.  
  
“Call it female intuition. Mine’s just a tad slow. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. You planted a seed that quickly overgrew my entire mind and wouldn’t stop until I had ripped it out root and stem.”  
  
“Sorry about that,” Brienne said. “And about everything. I can’t imagine what it must be like to find out your husband is… Well...”  
  
Lysa shook her head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. _Men_ ,” she sighed. “Idiots.”  
  
“Idiots and animals,” Brienne agreed, remembering Lady Olenna’s words about men and specifically the Boltons.  
  
Lysa smiled. “Now, have you thought about what you want to do about this? I felt like you should be the one to go to the police and I just want you to know… I’ll have your back. I’ll testify against him.”  
  
Brienne frowned. “You will?” With an elegant wave of her hand, Lysa flicked her long auburn hair over her shoulder. Brienne could smell her sweet perfume from across the table.  
  
“Yes. My dear, the second I found that safe, I knew it was over. Now all we can do, is make the most of his demise, if you know what I mean. He might have taken something from you that you can never take back, but there is plenty we can take from him. Besides,” she said as she took another sip from her wine and swirled it around in her glass, “He who sits on a mountain of gold can surely miss a dime or two.”  
  
Brienne blinked at her glass. The ease with which Lysa talked about her husband’s sick practices and their effect on her, was almost terrifying.  
  
“Aren’t you upset? Shocked? _Anything_?” Lysa’s lips curled up into an ominous grin.  
  
“I was, but only for a few days. Roose is not my first husband, as I’m sure you know. And, overall, I suppose, I liked him. But I will never love anyone the way I love Petyr.” Brienne felt like her jaw had almost dropped to the floor. Though her mind was spinning, she thought it best not to be nosy and ask about her marriage or Petyr. It was clear that she didn’t marry Roose for love, and she was pretty sure that Lysa used present tense when she spoke about her love for this Petyr person.  
  
Quite unexpectedly, Lysa put her hand over Brienne’s on the table. “I’m truly sorry about what he’s done. To you and to those other girls. If I had known, I would have left him a long time ago. I wish there was something I could do to make it right.”  
  
Brienne nodded and said, “Actually... I think there might be something you can do for me.”  
  
It was only an hour after she had left Jaime in the car, when she returned to him. The cupholder in the dashboard was filled to the rim with toffee wrappers and he had so many questions that he couldn’t decide which one to ask first, so all that came out of his mouth was a bunch of stuttering. Brienne slowly put her seatbelt on and turned to face him.  
  
“I really believe that this is it,” she said. “It’s game over.”

FIVE MONTHS LATER  
  
  
“Jesus Christ, Jaime! What’s taking you so long?!” Brienne’s voice echoed down the hall and into their bedroom.  
  
“I’m almost ready! Calm down!” he yelled back. Brienne had been waiting for him for a good 10 minutes.  
  
“You sound like a bloody woman,” she mumbled impatiently. There were still at least 10 boxes in the entrance hall, and the dresser and pale blue arm chair from her old bedroom stood next to staircase. Brienne thought they looked rather out of place in Jaime’s house, but she was happy to have some of her own things there, to make her feel a little less like she was moving into a hotel. She’d sold or given away most of her furniture and kitchenware and while it had only been a week since she’d finished packing up her belongings, she had _no_ idea what was inside any of the boxes.  
  
Jaime had convinced her to drop everything and order some food the evening before, but now the house looked a mess and all she wanted to do was put her things away. But no. Jaime had been practically begging her to go on a hike to the poppy field. Of course Brienne was too stubborn to just agree, but there really was no point in trying to talk him out of it. He was just too damn persuasive, with his sad blue eyes and his soft, warm voice. So there she was, waiting for him to go on their hike.  
  
Just as she was about to call him again, Jaime _finally_ showed his face, wearing jeans, a white v-neck t-shirt and a jacket that was neither black nor blue.  
  
Brienne waved her hands about in disbelief. “You need 20 minutes to get ready and _this_ is what you’re wearing?” she said incredulously. “To go on a hike? You might as well be wearing a suit! Are you trying to make me look bad? Because it’s working. _Ugh_ , you’re so bloody vain!”  
  
Jaime shrugged with a guilty smirk on his face. “I just wanted to look nice,” he tried. “Who knows who we might bump into?”  
  
Brienne gave him a suspicious sideways glance, rolled her eyes and opened the front door. “In the middle of the Kingswood? No one, that’s who! Birds and foxes and the occasional _friendly_ wolf. And I doubt any of them will be impressed by your good looks.”  
  
As Jaime passed her through the door, he kissed her on the cheek. “ _Awww_ ,” he replied, “You said I have good looks!” Before she could slap him, he quickly jumped down the steps to the driveway.  
  
“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Brienne said, shaking her head.  
  
From Jaime’s house, it was almost an hour to the poppy field. Jaime wore a green backpack that did not match the rest of his exaggerated outfit, and walked ahead of her, rambling on about the weather, the trees and nothing at all. Brienne wasn’t sure when she stopped listening. Climbing the hill and crossing the brook, she remembered the last time they’d visited the poppy field. How her entire world had changed over the course of a few months. Thanks to Lysa honouring her request to be the one to file the police report, and with the help of their team of lawyers, Brienne had only appeared in court once. Having Jaime there by her side made all the difference. Because the evidence was rather overwhelming, Bolton pleaded guilty to reduce his sentence. Part of Brienne thought she should care more, but she simply didn’t. All she wanted was for it to be over.  
  
The whole thing had taken less than 5 months from investigation to sentencing. Between Bolton’s guilty plea, all of the evidence and the testimonies, there wasn’t much left to discuss. Bolton lost his job, his wife, his house and most of his life. He would lose most of his fortune and be sent to prison to serve his sentence. It was done, over, finished and she was finally able to leave everything behind. She was finally free and for the first time in a long, long time, she wasn’t just content, but happy.  
  
Down to her very bones, she was happy. Well, it was long overdue.

Although there were no more poppies in the valley below, the view still took Brienne’s breath away when they reached the top of the hill. The golden autumn sun hung low in the sky, lazily painting her orange light over the grass and the trees. Jaime put down a blanket and sat down, patting on the empty spot next to him. They drank the silence and Brienne looked at him, casually leaning back on his hands with his eyes closed. How it was possibly she did not know, but the big scar that cut right through his eyebrow had only made him more attractive. Perhaps she just appreciated these little reminders of his humanity.  
  
Brienne thought about the first time they’d met, when her car broke down and he almost blinded her with his torch light. She thought of when she found him in the Red Keep, bloodshot eyes, his shirt sticking to his skin, smelling of booze and sweat and cigarettes. When he was asleep on her sofa, when they sat on the bonnet of her car. And now they were here. She could barely believe it.  
  
When Jaime opened his eyes, she was on her knees in front of him, close enough to see his pupils dilating when he focused on her. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she pushed him over and kissed him. At first he was rather overwhelmed, but soon his hands were roaming over her body. His hands were cold when he reached under her shirt, but the electricity of their touch warmed them up soon enough. Brienne’s entire body was tingling and Jaime squirmed under her weight, pulling her down on top of him.  
  
Hands and mouths went all over the place and Brienne felt so hot she’d have sworn that the very sky was on fire. When his hands moved over her breasts, she gasped, kissing him more hungrily than before and slowly rocking her hips back and forth over his lap. Brienne lifted his shirt and kissed his stomach and his chest, raking her fingernails through his chest hair, stroking his sides before returning her attention to his lips. With her right hand she reached down between her legs and when she touched him through his jeans, his eyes flew open.  
  
“It’s all right,” she said, kissing him gently, “We’re okay.” Jaime held on to her like she was the last ray of sunlight before the eternal darkness. His warm lips tasted her like she was the last sweet berry before the endless frost and his eyes… He looked at her like she was the only thing in the entire world.  
  
Brienne took his hand, kissed his knuckles and then guided him under her shirt. The days when she couldn’t bear to look at him in these moments were behind her, in a different life. She heard herself moaning softly and almost had to giggle. Her heart felt like it was about to explode. Then Jaime lowered his hands and gently pushed her away.  
  
“I think-” he breathed, “I think we should stop.” It was like an alarm had rudely awoken her from the most beautiful dream. Jaime lay back down in the grass, catching his breath. “Stop before I won’t be able to stop anymore, if you know what I mean,” he said. Brienne ran her hands through her hair and felt how warm her face was. Then she rolled off him and turned on her back.  
  
“Yeah… I think you’re right,” she agreed reluctantly. It was strange to her how thoughts of him, dreams of him, kissing and touching him really tasted like more. He was like a drug to her. Every time she used a little, she only needed more of him.  
  
Jaime motioned for her to rest her head on his chest, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His heartbeat was steady and strong, soothing against her face and his scent was so delicious that it almost made her hungry. It was a combination of rich wood, and amber tones mixed with something like rosemary. Clean, and fresh yet warm and safe. With his right hand he stroked her hair, hypnotising her into thinking that she never wanted to leave.  
  
They lay in the silence and bathed in the golden sunlight for over half an hour, until Brienne asked, “Do you ever think about how different things could’ve been?”  
  
Jaime drew little circles on her shoulder. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Well… If either of us had made a different choice that night. If you hadn’t taken the long way home or if I hadn’t, do you think we would be where we are, today? One different choice and we would have never met the way we did.” She rested her head on her arm and looked up at him. “I must have done some pretty great things in a previous life to get so lucky.”  
  
“Ha, luck,” Jaime scoffed, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Luck has nothing to do with it. I don’t care who you were or what you did in a previous life _o_ _r_ in this one. We could have lived in different places, under different names. We could have done anything, been anyone – I would have always found a way to love you. Always.”  
  
His words cut through her soul like a million knives and Jaime gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “That reminds me,” he said, reaching for his bag. “I brought you something. Something I’ve been wanting to give you for months now. I almost died trying to find it. True story.” He pulled out a small box of dark wood, with a golden lion embossed on the lid.  
  
“What’s that?” Brienne asked.  
  
“I want you to have this,” Jaime said as he opened the box and showed her a shiny golden medallion. “My mother had this made for Cersei and me when we were born. She used to tell us that it was a promise of eternal love and protection, and that one day, we would find someone whom we’d want to love and protect above all else.” Jaime held the box out to her.  
  
The medallion was round and hung on a long, thin chain of gold, picturing the head of a lion, surrounded by stars.  
  
“It’s absolutely beautiful, Jaime, truly. But I can’t accept this.” She said, trying to give it back to him. Jaime wouldn’t have it and pushed her hand away.  
  
“It’s not a piece of jewellery, Brienne, it’s a promise. A promise from my heart to yours, and you can’t give a promise back to someone. Please, keep it. It’s yours. It will always be yours. And so will I.”  
  
  
When Jaime and Brienne returned home, there was a car in the driveway that Brienne did not recognise.  
  
“Were you expecting anyone?” Brienne asked. Before Jaime could reply, the door swung open and a familiar face appeared.  
  
“Oberyn? What are you doing here?”  
  
“If it isn’t the two most beautiful lovebirds in all of paradise,” Oberyn said. “I mean, of course I don’t really know what you look like, but I’m going to take _Golden Boy’s_ word for it. Anyway, don’t mind me, I’ve only been waiting here for, what, two hours? I’ll have you know that I was about to turn around and leave. My taxi driver is _the worst_ conversationalist ever. Don’t you people use cellphones?”  
  
Brienne made an apologetic face and Jaime said, “Let’s just say that what we were doing required no mobile devices,” to which Brienne almost choked on her own breath.  
  
“I asked you yesterday if you’d be home this morning and you said you would be,” Oberyn pointed out, ignoring Jaime’s insinuation.  
  
“Ah shit, you’re right. I did say that. I’m so-”  
  
“Spare me your excuses,” Oberyn interrupted, waving at him dismissively. “You were lost in the infinite vortex of domestic bliss and love making, trust me, I get it.” Brienne and Jaime exchanged guilty looks while Oberyn steadily continued, “Anyway, I came to personally deliver you this.” The looks on Brienne’s and Jaime’s faces changed from guilty to utterly confused. “It’s quite something, let me tell you. Lysa’s lawyer called me a couple of days ago. Told me her client had a message for you. About your financial compensation.”  
  
Oberyn held out a white envelope, and Brienne opened it to find a legal letter that looked far too intimidating to comprehend. Besides the letter there was another piece of paper, oddly sized and light blue, with a small note attached to it.  
  
“She asked me to personally hand this to you. She’d do it herself but she’s currently abroad and won’t be returning any time soon."  
  
Brienne unfolded the note and silently read, _H_ _e who sits on a mountain of gold can surely miss a dime or two._ _Your friend and partner, Lysa Arryn-Tully.  
_  
“What is it?” Jaime asked curiously. Brienne turned the blue sheet of paper around and her mouth fell open.  
  
“Oh my god,” she said, barely believing her own eyes. “She sent me a cheque. She’s giving me money. Lots and _lots_ of money. _Why_?!”  
  
Oberyn laughed. “Why does anyone do anything? Because they feel like it’s the right thing to do. She wants you to have it. I’d suggest you accept it. So, now that I’ve done my duty, if you’ll please excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be. Funnily enough, I’m running terribly late.” He leaned in to kiss Brienne on the cheek and gave Jaime a hug before he got back in the car. “I’ll um… _see_ you at the wedding, or the baby shower or something” he called, waving through the window in no particular direction. “Don’t expect any more gifts from me. This is where I draw the line. See you!” The car disappeared in a cloud of dirt and confusion.  
  
“Money?” Jaime finally asked. “How much are we talking about here?” Brienne looked at the cheque again and started laughing.  
  
“Fifty _fucking_ thousand,” she said. Jaime’s mouth fell open and then he started laughing, too.  
  
  
When they entered the house, completely overwhelmed by what just happened, instead of going to the living room, Brienne touched his arm to draw his attention and turned right into the hallway.  
  
“Where are you going?” Jaime asked. Brienne turned around and started slowly unbuttoning her shirt.  
  
“I think I know a way to celebrate,” she said, walking backwards, slowly.  
  
“Celebrate?” Jaime asked, his voice weak and dry.  
  
“Yes,” she said, “I want to celebrate. Not the money – you. Me. A new chapter of my life- _o_ _ur_ life. _Everything_.” Jaime followed her down the hall, his eyes almost burning through her clothes as she undressed herself. He dropped his jacket on the floor and Brienne pulled his t-shirt over his head.  
  
Kissing his shoulder and his neck, she said, “I think I finally know what it feels like to feel whole again. To be free again.” She paused to open the door and pulled him inside, guiding him to the bed.  
  
“It’s been a long way,” she continued. “But I finally know where it was leading me.” Her hands trailed down his sides and slowly undid his jeans.  
  
“And where is that?” Jaime asked, his voice raw with hunger and warm with love.  
  
“You,” she said. “Home.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "She was just like a sailboat, drifting aimlessly in the same darkness, hoping someday soon, the wind would blow her home. But night after night she’d find herself staring at the same endlessly empty horizon"  
> Ben Rector - Sailboat
> 
> "Jaime held on to her like she was the last ray of sunlight before the eternal darkness"  
> Trading Yesterday - She is the sunlight


	23. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end's not near, it's here. 
> 
> And this time, I really mean it. Thank you, and good night.

The sky was slowly turning a warm shade of pink, making the clouds look slightly blue. Autumn had come early this year and the fields were already changing into their coats of gold and coats of red. It had been a long time since she last drove down this winding road, with the oaks and pines and chestnut trees on one side, and endless waves of tall yellow grass on the other.  
  
Brienne was dangerously lost in thought when her car started spluttering and a light flashed on the dashboard.  
  
“Ah no, not again,” she sighed. The car was quickly losing power, and the beeping and blinking made her nervous, so she pulled over, leaned back in her seat and groaned. When she called the garage, they told her it would be at least two hours before they could send someone out to her. Due to last night’s storm their phones had been ringing off the hook.  
  
 _Wonderful_ , she thought miserably. _Absolutely wonderful._  
  
Reluctantly, she scrolled through her list of contacts – which, for the record, was a lot longer than it used to be – to find Jaime’s number.  
  
“Hi, it’s me,” she said when he answered the phone. “Can you come get me? My car broke down – don’t say it, I don’t want to hear it – and I called the garage but they can’t get here for another two hours.” There were sounds of kitchenware and cutlery clashing in the background. Brienne could almost hear Jaime shaking his head.  
  
“Well _yes_ , because we still have lots to do and we only have a few more hours before our guests arrive.” Brienne rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I know that, just stop arguing and start driving. Please.”  
  
“I’m already on my way. Where are you?” Brienne got out of her car and looked around. There were no landmarks, no tall buildings in the immediate area. Just waves of green and orange and blurry lines where the sky met the earth.  
  
She paused for a moment and then quietly said, “The meadows by the Kingsroad.”  
  
“The meadows by-” – he stopped talking to let out an angry sigh – “Seriously? What are you doing all the way out there? I thought you were going to the store.”  
  
“Yes well, I took a different route, okay? Will you please come and get me?”  
  
“Fine, I’ll be right there. Get off the road and don’t talk to strangers.”  
  
Brienne huffed. “All right, _dad_.”  
  
She grabbed a cardigan from the back seat and walked across the street and into the meadow, where the last swallows of summer dashed and zigzagged through the sky, cutting through the air like tiny swords. In the distance, two falcons were gracefully circling above the field. Though it had been over two years since she last came here, the silence and the stillness were familiar and welcoming like warm arms embracing her. There was only grass, and trees, and birds, as far as the eye could see and it felt almost like she was standing on a corner of the world, where the shadows end, and if you could only reach those trees in the distance, you’d fall right off the edge. A thrilling thought that pulled her in, but she decided not to surrender, and wait for Jaime.  
  
His voice rang inside her head like an old lullaby, or a siren’s song.  
  
 _There is nothing here._  
  
 _I know. Isn’t it amazing_?  
  
 _Jaime_.  
  
No matter how often he annoyed her, how _completely_ insufferable he could be, or how much they’d been through, she would always, _always,_ smile when she thought of him. Every single day.  
  
There was such peace in her heart, it was almost terrifying. The kind she had never known in all her life. A peace that came with closure, acceptance and fulfilment. The hurt that other people had inflicted on her, was so far away now. Sometimes the old scars still stung and burned, but she’d found a way to embrace the pain so that now, it was a part of her, instead of the other way around. Hours, weeks, months with Jaime had slowly but surely formed a new layer of skin over the wounds of her soul and she felt so much lighter. There was simply not enough room inside her heart to continue carrying around all that suffering. Not with all the love she had to give and to receive.  
  
Brienne had been lost and stranded, cold, alone and afraid with all the street lights gone out and moon and all her stars hidden behind endless clouds of darkness. There had been countless roadblocks, sudden spells of blinding fog where she couldn’t see a single step ahead. Many a time she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, fearing that she would never find her way back. Sometimes she had even forgotten where she came from, or where she was going. But one day she realised there is no such thing as ‘turning back’ in life. Deeds cannot be undone, words cannot be unspoken, and love cannot be unmade. There is no going back, there is only going forward. All you can do when you find yourself lost in the darkness with nothing to hold on to, is take another step, take another turn and keep moving.  
  
We constantly find ourselves at a crossroads wondering which path is the _right_ one, forgetting that there is no road map to guide us through our lives.  
  
Brienne had no idea how much time had passed when a car pulled over in the grass behind her.  
  
“Excuse me, sir, are you all right?” Brienne glared at Jaime over her shoulder and he clasped his hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I’m _so_ sorry… _madam_ ,” he said. He made a strange little jump and then sat down next to her.  
  
It felt like his presence wiped the silence off the earth. There was never any way around Jaime Lannister. It was completely, utterly and entirely impossible to ignore him. He persuaded her into forgiveness with a warm, lingering kiss on her cheek.  
  
“Reminiscing about the past, are we?” he asked as he put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in. “I have a slight problem with your sense of timing but other than that I really can’t blame you. Honestly, where would you be without me?”  
  
Brienne gave him a sideways glance and replied, “In the back of my car, with my legs sticking out the door, waiting for someone to come and save me.” Jaime hooked his fingers under her chin and turned her face towards him.  
  
“Hmmm, don’t you know? It was always going to be me. Our fates are completely intertwined, Mrs Lannister.” Brienne plucked his hand off her shoulder and pushed it away.  
  
“Excuse you,” she corrected. “It’s still Miss Tarth, thank you very much.” Jaime shrugged indifferently.  
  
“Potayto, potahto,” he said. “Soon they’ll be one and the same.”  
  
“No, they will _not_ ,” Brienne argued. “It will still be Lannister- _Tarth._ Anyway, changing the subject: thank you for coming.”  
  
Jaime pressed his lips softly against her cheek and mumbled, “You call for me and I come.” His breath on her skin sent a tingle down her spine.  
  
Brienne smiled. “That’s what she said.”  
  
Over the sound of Jaime’s howling laughter, Brienne heard a tapping noise behind her. Jaime quickly hurried over to the car while Brienne slowly got up and wiped the grass off her jeans.  
  
A few seconds later, the brightest smile lit up her face as two little feet touched the ground and started toddling towards her. With his short, chunky little legs in black jeans, a scarlet sweater with a yellow lion on the front and the most adorable little red shoes, the little boy was approaching her. His entire body shook with every unsteady step, his wavy golden hair bouncing off his smooth little forehead.  
  
“Mmmaaaamaaa!” he squealed.  
  
Brienne’s heart almost burst right out of her chest. How one person can love another so deeply it almost hurt, was completely beyond her. Every time she thought she couldn’t possibly love him more, he did something to prove her wrong. Something like, you know, smiling, breathing… _existing_.  
  
Brienne had loved Jaime more than anyone or anything in the whole entire world and could never imagine that there was still enough left to love their son the way she did. But then he would smile, splashing the water in the bath, or shriek while he played with his dad, or simply fall asleep against her chest with his mouth slightly open, and damn it, she would love him even more than she did only a second ago. She and Jaime had combined two highly imperfect halves of themselves and created this perfect little creature.  
  
The boy’s wavy hair was much like his niece’s. Not quite as pale as his mother’s, and not as dark as his father’s. At least, not yet. He wore it longer than Brienne liked it, but Jaime didn’t want to have it cut. His eyes were the same as Brienne’s in shape and size, but the colour was different. His eyes were like emeralds. Sometimes as bright as the grass between the poppies of late spring and other times they were dark like the tall pine trees that stood guard over their home.  
  
As little as he was, he had the same cheeky look in his eyes as his father. When they put him next to Ella, people often mistook them for siblings. They had the same hair, the same incredibly distinctive eye colour and the same heart shaped face, but he had his mother’s full lips, his father’s complexion and his ears and nose, too.  
  
“There’s my golden boy,” Brienne exclaimed as he ran into her arms at full speed. Despite his age and height, the boy was as strong and unrestrained as a lion cub, which made his name rather fitting.  
  
Jaime chuckled at the sight of them, and tried to sound somewhat convincing when he said, “Lio, be careful with your mother.” The boy completely ignored his father’s warning and leaned back in Brienne’s arms. With both his sticky little hands he gently touched his mother’s cheeks.  
  
“ _Ugh_ ,” Brienne exclaimed, “You’re disgusting!” Her reaction made Lio laugh, exposing his beautiful smile. He put everyone under his spell with the way he threw his head back, roaring with laughter like they’d never heard a child of his age do before. And those adorable little dimples in his rosy cheeks were simply too much. Not even the coldest of hearts could withstand the warmth of his laugh.  
  
Brienne held him in her arms as she spun around and he threw his head back, squealing happily with his mouth wide open and his lazy curls swaying from left to right. There was pink goo all over his face.  
  
“What on earth did you give him?” she asked when she’d spun around so many times that she was dizzy.  
  
Jaime shrugged and held up a lunch box. “Just some strawberries. I had do bribe him to take him with me. You know how he gets.”

“More! More stobies!” Lio suggested happily, reaching for his father arms. “Yummmm!”  
  
Brienne gave him a disapproving frown. “Yes, yum, for _you_ maybe. Mummy thinks its yucky. _Blegh_.”  
  
“Bleeeeh yucky,” Lio agreed. It was impossible to wipe his face with him constantly turning his head away from her.  
  
“So how did you get stranded all the way out here?” Jaime asked, plucking his son from Brienne’s arms to put him down.  
  
Watching Lio run through the tall grass on his little unbalanced legs, Brienne replied “Oh you know how it goes. You could take a right turn, through where you know every corner of every street, and all the houses and the trees. Or… you could choose a different path, see where it leads you.”  
  
“How very poetic of you,” Jaime said, already ducking to dodge Brienne’s punch. “I’m kidding, love, I’m kidding. But there is this thing called _efficiency_. Besides, didn’t your father used to warn you about taking the long way home?”  
  
Brienne’s face fell, remembering her parents. “He did.”  
  
“Well... He had a point. You told me yourself that that is how your mother died." Brienne rolled her eyes.  
  
“A matter of bad timing," she said dismissively. "People die all the time. Taking the long way home won't get me killed.”  
  
“Brienne the Invincible,” Jaime said, shaking his head.  
  
“You’re one to talk. If you hadn’t taken the long way home, we would have never even met,” she pointed out. “Or have you forgotten?”  
  
Jaime gave her a guilty smile. “Perhaps my amnesia is suddenly playing up again. Please, do remind me how I saved you that first time.”  
  
Brienne was about to walk away when he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back. “All right, fine. You got me. I was just trying to be responsible.”  
  
She gave him an underwhelmed frown. “Well, don’t. It doesn’t suit you.”  
  
Jaime laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. He was only just tall enough to rest his chin on her shoulder. Meanwhile, Lio was chasing invisible butterflies in the grass, telling them some fascinating story in a language only he could understand.  
  
“When did he get so big?” Brienne asked, equally proud and sad. She wished there was a pause button in life, so that they could be frozen in this moment, with Jaime’s arms so safe and warm around her, their son playing in the grass, happy and carefree, and her heart full of light. But all good things must come to an end, and soon enough the blissful silence was rudely disturbed by Jaime’s phone ringing.  
  
The cold replacing his warm embrace, was overwhelming. Brienne shivered and ran after Lio, calling, “I’m gonna get you!” The boy let out another long shriek when he realised his mother was chasing him.  
  
“Okay kids, you’ve had your fun,” Jaime said when he hung up the phone. “Time to go home.”  
  
“Noooo,” Lio protested theatrically, crossing his arms.  
  
Jaime sighed. “What do you mean, _no_? Don’t you want to go home and see Ella and your auntie Maggie and-”  
  
“No!” the boy yelled.  
  
Brienne had to try her best not to laugh, but Jaime looked over his shoulder at her and said, “He gets this from you, you know. The stubbornness.” Brienne feigned an offended look. “Lio, that’s enough, Jaime tried. "Come here, we have to go.”  
  
“Noohoohooooo.” He was now running around in circles. Brienne was convinced he didn’t even remember what their little disagreement was about. The joy was in going against whatever his father asked of him.  
  
Brienne wrinkled her nose at the thought of having people over. The noise and polite smiles. She’d been able to put off throwing parties for a long time. No baby shower, no _Sip and See_ , no big birthday parties. Sadly, there was no escaping Margaery’s party-planner-fury once she learned that they wouldn’t even have a big wedding.  
  
Somehow Jaime had convinced her to let Margaery throw them an engagement party. Whatever the fuck that meant. Brienne never understood how one moment she was absolutely convinced of one thing and she’d blink and suddenly she had agreed to something else entirely. It was the curse of Jaime Lannister’s charm.  
  
Lio was still running around like all the sugar in the world had suddenly kicked in, screaming different variations of the word _no_.  
  
“He has a point, you know” Brienne eventually said. “Do we really _have_ to go?”  
  
“Don’t you start with me, too!” Jaime exclaimed helplessly. “What am I to do with you two?” Brienne shrugged. “Leave us here and come get us once everyone has gone home?” she suggested.  
  
Jaime scoffed. “That’s just brilliant. It’s _your_ party, how can you not attend your own party?” Brienne threw her head back and whined, “But I don’t even like parties. I hate parties. And so do you!”  
  
“I don’t _hate_ them,” Jaime disagreed. “Not this one, meant to celebrate our love, to have all our friends and family-”  
  
“ _Your_ friends and family,” Brienne corrected.  
  
Jaime shook his head, “They’re your family too, now. And they’re all coming to celebrate just that. And it would be really great if – just this once – you could be a little-”  
  
“ _Fine_ ,” Brienne cut him off, throwing her arms up desperately. “You can stop now. I’ll go with you.” She then turned to her son, who was now on his hands and knees on the ground, clawing and roaring at an imaginary enemy.  
  
“Come on, _Simba_ ,” she called. “Let’s go home. Maybe uncle Sandor will let you touch his scars, if we ask him nicely.”  
  
The boy instantly jumped up and ran to take his mother’s hand. Brienne turned around with a twirl and glanced over her shoulder arrogantly.  
  
“What?!” Jaime called in disbelief. “Why does he _immediately_ come when you call him?”  
  
“Because _I_ know where his true interests lie and how to get him to do what I want,” she replied.  
  
“Look at you,” Jaime replied as he joined her. “Spoken like a true Lannister.”  
  
Trying to strap a squirming toddler in his car seat didn’t stop her from reaching back to poke Jaime between the ribs. When she turned around to close the door, Jaime gently pushed her with her back against the car and kissed her.  
“I get so… so _tired_ of you,” Brienne said teasingly. Jaime replied with a grin and then moved his lips down to kiss her throat.  
  
“Just imagine being stuck with me for the rest of your days,” he mumbled against her skin. “It’s not too late, you know.”  
  
Brienne gently pushed him away to reach for her medallion. The glow that radiated from her heart had warmed the metal to the core.  
  
“Maybe for me, it isn’t,” she said. “But for you, it certainly is.” Jaime looked up at her and nodded.  
  
“I promised to always love and protect you. And I intend to keep that promise.”  
  
Brienne gently touched his face and said, “That’s it then. You’re stuck with me. Forever, and ever.”

“Suits me just fine,” he replied, before going back to kissing her neck. His hands were warm when they found their familiar way up her shirt.  
  
“You say that now, but forever and ever is a very long time.”  
  
Jaime sighed against her soft skin and drew back to look at her with a frown, visibly confused by the seriousness in her voice. Then he shook his head and pulled her in firmly, reaching for the medallion and turning the golden lion head around in his fingers.  
  
“I disagree,” he said, calm and sure. “Forever could never be long enough with you.”  
  
  
THE END


End file.
